Folie à Plusiers
by CaCoPhOnY Of ScReAmS
Summary: It started with one. Patient zero, retrieved from Washington DC, America. Alfred F.Jones was admitted by his college roommate at 13:08 on June 16th. Diagnosis: Delusional.
1. Prologue à la Folie

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

_**Folie à Plusiers**_

Prologue à la Folie

_Prologue to Insanity_

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

It started with one.

Patient Zero, retrieved from Washington D.C., United States of America. Alfred F. Jones was admitted by his college roommate at 13:08 on June 16th. Diagnosis: Delusional.

His roommate claims that his condition began little over a month ago, when Alfred had a personality switch; becoming louder, boisterous, and referring to himself simply as "America", or "The Hero", as well as becoming upset when his roommate refused to call him such.

He was admitted to MacFarlane's Psychiatric Hospital in Washington DC.

Four days later, a call was received from the Laurier Mental Institution, located in Ottawa, Canada. They had apparently received word of Alfred Jones, and were calling to report a similar case.

Matthew Williams was admitted by family, suffering from the same delusions as Patient Zero. He had gone from being outgoing and friendly, to calm, quiet, and all but invisible. He began calling himself "Canada" and murmuring constantly to an invisible person. His family claims that Matthew's names for this unknown hallucination range from "Kumashirou" to "Kilimanjaro".

We made a point of revealing this information to Alfred Jones, in part. One of the nurses sat down with him and told him briefly of a person called "Canada", making sure to avoid using Matthew Williams' name.

Much to our surprise, Alfred showed signs of confusion, before jumping up and exclaiming, "Canada? You found Mattie?"

The patient was, to our knowledge, previously unaware of Matthew Williams.

To date, we have been contacted about five similar cases, all but one from different countries around the world:

Lovino and Feliciano Vargas, from Rome, Italy. Romano is 23 years old, born on March 17th. Feliciano is 20 years old, also born on March 17th. Claiming to be "South Italy" and "North Italy", respectively. Also referring to themselves as "Romano" and "Veneziano."

Heracles Karpusi, from Athens, Greece. 27 years old, born on February 3rd. Claims to be "Greece".

Arthur Kirkland from London, England. 23 years old, birth date unregistered. Claims to be "England", "Great Britain", or "UK".

Wang Yao from Beijing, China. 23 years old, although he repeatedly claims to be over 4000. Born on October 10th. Claims to be "China".

Currently, all existing patients are being transferred to the same psychiatric ward as Alfred Jones in attempts of finding links in this mental condition. It stands to reason that even more patients could exist, and as such, all other patients of MacFarlane's Psychiatric Hospital have been transferred to nearby wards. Several psychiatrists and physicians are expressing interest in this case, which could possibly be the largest scale case of shared psychosis in history.

Also, all patients seem to show recognition of each other, without ever, to our knowledge, meeting them.

For now, this is being classified as a _folie à plusiers_, a shared delusion.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

***Thank you, Lycoris Calantha, for editing my stupid mistakes!**


	2. Un: Frères

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

_**Folie à Plusiers**_

Un: Frères

_One: Brothers_

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"When're they gonna get here?" America whined from his spot in the chair, his voice rising in pitch to show his annoyance. The nurse who was sitting across from him sighed and clicked her long nails against her clipboard. This was the fifth time he'd asked.

"Matthew Williams is due here within ten minutes, because he is the closest. The others aren't going to be here until later tonight," she calmly explained. Again. However, it appeared that Alfred wasn't paying her much attention, instead choosing to tug at the collar of his pastel-blue t-shirt (provided by the hospital, of course.)

"Who...?" America pondered, nonplussed. "Oh, Canada, right. He'll be so excited to see me! After all, I _am_ the hero!" His loud proclamations were becoming a regular occurrence. It was either him exclaiming his greatness, or insisting that Matthew Williams, the second official patient, was his little brother. All of the staff at MacFarlane's knew that this was impossible. The two men were born in different countries, with no blood relation at all.

Alfred didn't seem to care.

He turned his attention to the ceiling, playing around with the different ways the light reflected off his glasses. The sharp clacking noises of heels walking down the hall caught the attention of both patient and nurse, and they turned to see one of the on-duty doctors leading a nervous young man into the common room.

"Mattie!" Alfred exclaimed, leaping out of his chair and nearly knocking the other boy to the ground in a bone crushing hug.

"A-America…" Matthew choked out, trying (and partially failing) to breathe while trapped in the other's embrace.

Alfred eventually relinquished his hold, and led Matthew over to the La-Z-Boy recliners that were set up in one section of the room.

The nurse who had been watching Alfred earlier nearly dropped her pen and clipboard at the sight of the young man trailing silently behind her patient. They were identical. Well, nearly. 'Canada' had hair that was longer and slightly wavy, the blond becoming orange closer to the tips. His eyes were closer to an indigo shade than Alfred's, but they were also behind glasses, and the shapes of their faces were frighteningly similar.

The doctor that had escorted Matthew in walked briskly over to the nurse, handing her a plain sheet of paper, containing a picture of the boy in front of her, as well as a description:

**Matthew Williams, "Canada"**

**Age:** 18

**Gender: **Male

**Height: **177cm

**Birthday: **July 1st

**Hair Color: **Blond/Orange

**Eye Color: **Violet

She nodded as she read the information. He was one year younger than Alfred, and the same height. Well, that could partially amount for why they looked so alike, right? She wasn't so sure, herself.

Glancing over to where the two boys had sat down, beside each other on the chairs, she was Alfred talking animatedly to Matthew about something of other, while the other boy nodded slightly and laughed. They were acting like old friends who hadn't seen each other for a while.

How could they even know each other?

"Man! I haven't seen you in _forever,_ Canada! I'd practically forgotten about you!" America beamed at his little brother, who huffed in a bit of annoyance.

"You always forget about me, eh?" He pouted, "Should'a figured."

"Whoa, whoa! Back up!" America waved his hands in a warding gesture, "It's not my fault! I don't even remember much until like, a month ago."

"Yeah, me neither." Canada nodded, his voice lowering, "It was kinda like waking up from a dream, but you only remember bits 'n pieces of it, eh?"

"Completely!" America agreed. "I didn't even really know where the heck I was! Then they shipped me off here!" He gestured to the room around him, "How could they put the hero in a nuthouse? I'm awesome!"

Canada shrugged, "I was living with a human family." America quirked a brow. "Oh please! I don't know how it happened either! Anyway, maybe it's better not to focus on what's happened lately, and live from how we remember the other Nations."

"Ever the little peace keeper," America mussed up Canada's hair, "but it's a heroic idea! Hey, did you happen to catch wind of who else they've found?" He grinned.

Canada looked thoughtful, "Well, just England, eh? Haven't heard any more than that."

"They've got the Italy brothers, Greece and China, too," America iterated, holding up a finger as he recited the names. "They're all gonna be shipped here by tonight."

Canada nodded, wondering what sort of havoc would occur one they put England and America in the same room.

_Alfred Jones and Matthew Williams did not express feelings of hate or violence toward one another, nor did they show behavior that is expected of people with psychosis or other mental disorders, other than the constant referral to each other as "America" and "Canada". They seemed to have met before, and spoke of past endeavors, even though they are believed to never have met._

_Matthew Williams was also observed to show recognition at the mention of the other patients, who, as of the present, have yet to arrive at MacFarlane's. It had also been theorized that, should any new patients arise, a single mention of their name or "Nation," and the others would recognize them._

_It has been yet to determined whether the patient's name corresponds to the name their delusion provides them with._

_Patients also seem to show stereotypical traits depending on where they came from, such as Alfred Jones's constant want to eat hamburgers and Matthew Williams's mild demeanor and verbal tic "eh". _

**-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-**

**In case you're completely oblivious, That bit in italics at the end is the report that the doctor/psychiatrist of whatever is doing. I'll probably be doing something like that at the end of each chapter.**

**Donnez-moi un REVIEW, S'il vous plait~!**


	3. Deux: Bonjour, Mes Amis

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

_**Folie à Plusiers**_

Deux: Bonjour, Mes Amis

_Two: Hello, My Friends_

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

It was 18:34 when the third patient arrived.

The dazed brunet idled behind the doctor that escorted him in, staring with mild interest at his surroundings. He yawned, and the doctor twitched—apparently he'd been subject to yawns and sighs for a while.

After catching sight of the two other wards, he walked over to them. America and Canada were currently engaged in a rather intense game of ping-pong, neither one of them bothering to look up at the silent arrival of the new visitor.

"..." Green eyes looked over the game briefly, before deciding that it was best not to interrupt and instead flung himself down on a couch, throwing an arm over his face to shield out the light.

The loud _SQUEEAAKK_ made by the springs in the couch succeeded in catching Matthew's attention, and he leaned over to peer past Alfred, glancing back in alarm as the little plastic ball went whizzing past his ear. America chuckled something in nervous apology, and turned to see what it was that had garnered his brother's attention. The sight he was met with made him laugh out loud.

"Greece, you know you're _wayyyy_ too big for that couch." He laughed, jogging over to the brunet, whose legs were hanging off the edge of the furniture.

"Long flight..." Heracles mumbled, not bothering to look at the blond, "Why'm I even here again?" He paused to yawn, "I couldn't get a wink of sleep at the other place they had me. Honestly, where do they get off locking up their country?"

"No one seems to recognize us anymore..." Canada acquiesced, reaching down to the floor to pick up Kumajirou, cuddling the small bear to his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the nurse frantically scribbling something down on her clipboard.

"Who?" Greece and Kumajirou uttered in unison. Matthew sighed.

"Canada..."

The overseeing nurse sat off to the side of the room, watching over the newfound trio with hawk like eyes. So far she hadn't been able to spot anything out of the ordinary with the men, other than Alfred's automatically calling the lethargic brunet, "Greece," and she held her hand out politely as the doctor who had overseen the new patient's transfer from Athens handed her another information sheet, similar to the earlier report on Matthew Williams. This one read:

**Heracles Karpusi, "Greece"  
Age: **27**  
Gender: **Male**  
Height: **5'8"**  
Birthday: **February 3rd**  
Hair Color:** Brown**  
Eye Color: **Green

All very basic. She nodded and returned her attention back to the group of patients, returning to her job of making observations. All in all, they seemed to behave like normal human beings, although, there was something about the way they acted. Like their presence really, was just...odd. Although, a lot of the delusional cases she'd overseen were the same way.

But these people, 'Nations' they claimed to be, were calm, they weren't having vivid hallucinations...

This was when she saw Matthew bend down to grab something.

But...there was nothing there. She frowned. She remembered being told by one of the psychiatrists from Ottawa that Matthew would occasionally talk to an invisible 'polar bear,' although he never could seem to pinpoint the name.

And Heracles and Alfred didn't even seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, even as Matthew continued to hang onto the lump of air.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she hurriedly scribbled into her notepad,

_Matthew Williams, showing signs of hallucination. Picks up what I believe to be an imaginary 'polar bear.' This behavior is common among patients with any disorder ranging from dementia to schizophrenia. _

_Alfred Jones and Heracles Karpusi do not show alarm or confusion. This could be because they simply do not notice, or they believe that nothing out of the ordinary is happening._

_~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~_

Arthur Kirkland was third to arrive, he was scheduled to arrive second, but the plane from London was delayed several hours due to bad weather.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" the irate Briton asked, stopping and crossing his arms as soon as he stepped past the threshold into the common room. "I swear, America, if this is another one of your schemes..."

"Hold up there, Iggy!" America interrupted, "You always blame me whenever anything happens!"

"That's because it's always your fault," England huffed, striding briskly over to the nearest armchair and sitting down. "And if that isn't the problem, then I fail to see any other explanation."

"Maybe it's another one of your spells gone wro-"

"Don't start this again," Canada warned, a sharp edge hidden in his quiet voice. America immediately closed his mouth, he _knew_ how his brother was when he got ticked. He still had nightmares from those three hours of screaming...

England on the other hand, simply huffed and crossed his legs. He wasn't the least bit scared of Canada. He didn't have any reason to be.

Greece barely managed to stifle his laughter.

The group of four, engulfed in a somewhat awkward silence, perked up and turned at the sound of loud voices echoing down the hallway.

"-don't give a shit about that bastard," a pissy, rude-sounding voice rang out.

"Whaa? but Spain-nii could already be here!" came a second, painfully cheerful voice.

"I told you, I don't care about that fucking..." the voice trailed off as the two conversing entered the room, looking around at the others.

"Ve~ Ciao America and England and...uhh...?" the auburn-haired boy trailed off, squinting to look at Canada, who flushed.

"Canada," he muttered, scratching Kumajirou behind his ear.

"Yeah! I know!" Italy rambled on, "Isn't there anyone else here?"

Greece raised his hand over the back of the couch, that was blocking him from view, not even bothering to speak.

"Ah, ciao Greece. Look Romano, Spain-nii isn't here yet!"

"No shit, Veneziano," Romano spat, looking pointedly away from his brother. "Not that I care. He can do whatever the hell he wants."

Italy didn't seem to hear him, instead turning to America and whining, "Ne, ne, Germany isn't here either?" he asked, a hopeful tone in his voice.

"Nope," America replied, shrugging when Italy pouted and made an unintelligible whining noise.

It seemed that the Italy brothers hadn't changed a bit.

The nurse sat back down on her chair, having just returned to it from a short conversation with the British and Italian doctors, and retrieving the patient profiles from them. If course, she was keeping an eye on the substantially larger group. It was her job, and she was good at it.

"Good day then, Miss Wilson," The doctor that had transferred Arthur Kirkland said politely, before heading toward the main offices. It seemed that some of the foreign doctors were planning on staying to analyze the patients.

Glancing up to make sure that nothing else like the spat between Arthur and Alfred was occurring, she focused on the three new profiles she'd added to her collection.

**Arthur Kirkland, "England"  
Age: **23**  
Gender: **Male**  
Height: **5'7"**  
Birthday: **Unregistered**  
Hair Color: **Blond**  
Eye Color: **Green

**Lovino Vargas, "Italy Romano"  
Age: **23**  
Gender: **Male**  
Height: **5'7"**  
Birthday: **March 17th**  
Hair Color: **Brown**  
Eye Color: **Hazel

**Feliciano Vargas, "Italy Veneziano"  
Age: **20**  
Gender: **Male**  
Height: **5'7"**  
Birthday: **March 17th**  
Hair Color: **Auburn**  
Eye Color:** Brown

She nodded as she read over the information, pausing only briefly to ponder how unusual it was for two brothers to be born on the same day. Heck, it was strange enough to get this many people from other countries in the same room who all speak English. A shout of indignation drew her attention from the papers back to the patients, where she saw Arthur grasping Alfred by the collar of his shirt.

She stood, placing her notes on the chair, and went to break up the fight.

"Say _one_ more thing about my eyebrows, you tosser, and I'll—"

"—What is going on here?" Ms. Wilson asked as she approached. Arthur shot her a venomous glare, but released the taller man's shirt.

"Nothing," both of them ground out at the same time, shooting hateful glares at each other. But there was something else in their voices too...

"Keep it that way," she warned "I know you're all new here, but we do have rules, which I'm sure will be explained soon enough." She gave them one last look, and returned to her chair, taking her pen from its spot tucked behind her ear, bringing it to her note paper.

_Arthur Kirkland seems to being out a more violent side in Alfred that I have not seen in the week he's been here. I can only assume this is the same for Arthur, as his doctor made no mentions of violence. The two seem likely __to__be at each other's throats at any chance. They also seemed awkward at listening to my orders, as though they've never expected anyone to speak to them like an authority._

_Also, I couldn't help but notice the other's inability to recognize Matthew from his face. They seem to know his name and his 'Nation,' but are unable to know him from face. Matthew is still hallucinating._

_The Vargas brothers share many physical traits, although they do not seem to be close in personality. Lovino also seems to hold hostility for his brother and others. He might cause problems if he were to ever become aggravated. _

_Feliciano seems to get along fine with everyone. He also mentioned a "Spain," and __a__ "Germany." I surmise that this means there are, indeed, undiagnosed patients in other countries._

_Note: __Try__ to arrange time to speak to Feliciano about other possible patients._

_I also find it strange that there are two patients believing themselves to be "Italy," granted, they are "North" and "South," but they seems to act significantly different. Perhaps they, like Alfred and Matthew, underwent a personality change?_

_And, judging his reaction, Lovino does not __seem__to like this "Spain." If he ever shows up, they might need to be kept separate._

_Wang Yao is to be arriving in a half hour._

_~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~_

Wang Yao did, indeed, arrive a half hour later.

The Asian had just entered the room as Romano began chasing his brother around the room, after Italy (obliviously) made a suggestive comment about him and Spain. Amidst the laughing and yells, no one, certainly not Veneziano, noticed China's entrance.

Which is precisely why Italy ended up crashing headlong into the small man.

"Aiyah!" China exclaimed, "Clam down there, aru, or you're gonna kill someone." He pushed back some of his hair that had fallen over his face.

"China!" Italy exclaimed, hugging the smaller man spontaneously, "Ve~ Do you know when Germany is gonna get here?"

"Sorry. I don't think there's been any other Nations yet, aru. Who's here, anyway. The doctors over in Beijing wouldn't tell me anything, aru, I don't even think they _recognized_ me, aru."

"Ve~ Well-"

"VENEZIANO!" Romano yelled, tackling his younger brother to the floor. Robust laughter could be heard from the 'spectators,' namely America.

"Aaahhhh! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Just don't hit me!" Italy cried, flailing around from where Romano had him pinned.

"Then take it back, you retard! And stop asking about that damned potato-bastard!"

China sighed, figuring that he wasn't going to get any information from Italy. Making a wide berth around the two halves of Italy, he approached the other nations, who were all trying to conceal their amusement at the squabbling siblings. From what he could tell, there was America, England, Greece, the Italies, and, uhh... Well, he _knew_ there was _someone_ else there, but he couldn't for the life of him remember who.

"Hey China!" America smiled, his voice laughing still.

"America," China returned, "So, what's going on, aru?"

America knew he didn't mean that casually. "Not sure. None of our citizens recognize any of us. You're not the only one."

A confused huff, "And I guess that whoever they find they're sending here, aru?"

"Ye-"

"Ve~ that's right!" Veneziano chimed in, obviously having come to some sort of an accord with Romano.

"So this place could get even more hectic," England predicted, having been listening to the conversation, "Especially if they find Spain, Germany or, heaven forbid, France..."

"But Romano loves Spain-nii!" Italy proclaimed innocently, yelping when a fist was swung violently at his face.

"Take that back you idiot!"

In the end, they had to call in extra nurses.

Nurse Wilson looked at the paper in her hand, the sixth one so far.

**Wang Yao, "China"  
Age: **23**  
Gender: **Male**  
Height: **5'5"**  
Birthday: **October 10th**  
Hair Color: **Dark Brown**  
Eye Color: **Brown

Completely normal. Well, there was the part where Yao claimed to be over 4000 years old, but that could be easily contributed to his mental illness. After all, they had his birth records.

She was just about to call in her shift and head home for the night, when one of the head psychiatrists walked out of his office, calling for her attention.

_"Ah, Ms. Wilson, perfect timing, we'll be gaining a new patient tomorrow. __We've__ just __gotten__ a call from Paris."_

_**-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-**_

**OH NOES, NOT FRANCIS!**

**And by the way, I'm totally not bullshitting their profiles. Most of it comes from their actual character bios. Except for China and Canada's ages, and Romano's height. They were "Unknown" So I bullshitted them, and made Romano the same height as Italy. :P**

**JE T'AIME, EST-CE QUE J'AI UN ****REVIEW****, MAINTENANT? (Though you've all been totally fabulous so far~!) And pardon my French. Seriously. It sucks.**


	4. Trois: Francis est arrivé? Ah, L'enfer

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

**_Folie à Plusiers_**

Trois: Francis est arrivé? Ah, L'enfer...

_Three: Francis Arrived? Oh, Hell..._

_~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~_

England didn't take the announcement of France well.

Biggest.

Understatement.

_Ever._

"Oh BLOODY HELL!" England exclaimed as he stormed around the medium-size room he was given to stay in. It was fairly plain. Two twin size beds, one bedside table in the middle of them, and one lamp on that table. The lamp didn't even have a cord, it was battery-operated or something.

Good thing, too, or he might have strangled someone.

"Why the fuck did _he_ of all people have to be found! Couldn't I even have one day of peace?" he griped, kicking the bedside table. Both mattresses had already been flipped onto the floor in his fit, and he was left with nothing else to destroy. Unless, of course, he wanted to smash the lamp. Which he didn't.

The "Head Psychiatrist" or some other wash like that, hadn't deemed it necessary to tell them about the discovery of one Francis Bonnefoy until the following morning, about five hours before the aforementioned was to arrive at MacFarlane's. Now, this on its own wasn't enough to make England lose it. No, it was one teeny, tiny little bit of information that the psychiatrist had let slip that did that.

France was going to be rooming with _him_.

They were all told previously that it was required for them to share a room with someone. Romano had objected, saying that he _knew_ they kept single rooms for the dangerous patients, (how the _Hell_ did he know that?) and that since there was obviously no one else in the hospital, they should be allowed to use them. The psychiatrist declined, saying that they would still have to use the doubles.

And so, they had all been paired up and put in rooms. China with Greece, America with Canada, and Italy with Romano. England was the odd one out, and got a room to himself.

Or, at least he _had__._

And of course, out of the whole world, the next country to show up just had to be France. It was just his luck.

This was a bloody Psychiatric Hospital, wasn't it? Wasn't it illegal to _make _your patients stone bonkers?

Well, it probably didn't help that none of them were crazy in the first place, except maybe Italy. However, when the news had been announced shortly after breakfast, England had stood up so fast that he'd sloshed some of his scalding hot tea over the sleeping Greece, and proceeded to harass the doctor. Apparently, this is one thing you do NOT do in a loony bin.

This was how he ended up locked in his room, freaking out and waiting with dread for France to show up.

Back with the rest of the nations, the group of Nurses, (there were three today,) were getting the group together to go outside for "Recreation Time". Some of them, namely Italy and America, were ecstatic about playing outside. Some really didn't care either way, like Greece, China and Canada. The rest? Well, Romano was wondering why they were being watched like a bunch of delinquent children.

"Ve~ Cheer up Romano! We can go play soccer!" Italy smiled, sounding as cheerful as the sun. His brother merely scowled, giving the nurses wary glares as they passed.

"Come on guys, the Hero needs his fresh air!" America called out from the front of the group, heading out the doors toward the fenced-off recreation area. Italy laughed and chased after the group, and Romano sighed and trudged along.

The recreation area was probably the size of a small park, all nicely held in by seven-foot chain fences rimmed with barbed wire. Even Italy paused to give the fence a wary look, before heading off to ask the nurses why they were in a big cage. They just smiled and shooed him away.

Before long, everyone was doing something or another. The Italy brothers were engaged in a heated game of one-on-one soccer, which was basically just one big game of keep-away. America had dragged Greece and China over to the small tarmac and was trying to get them to play basketball with them. Canada sat alone on a shaded bench, completely forgotten.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

_Arthur Kirkland showed... extreme hostility at the idea of Francis arriving. He was confined until__further__notice. I can't help but wonder how they know so much about each other, it doesn't make any sense. Lovino has also been particularly well-behaved ever since yesterday, but I can see the glares he shoots at me whenever he thinks I'm not looking. He has some of the worse anger issues I've seen, added to an inferiority complex._

_I also chanced upon Arthur in the hallways this morning. He appeared to also be having hallucinations, and was laughing and talking to several, albeit imaginary, persons. I'm not sure if this is the same sort of case as Matthew, because when Alfred came down the hall, he looked at Arthur like he was crazy, and then made a comment about "Faeries and unicorns."_

_As for the other patients, I—_

Her writing trailed off as she caught sight of Matthew out of the corner of her eye. He was alone, looking dejected, but still smiling serenely. Feeling that she needed to do something, Ms. Wilson set down her notes and strode over to where the teenager was sitting on the bench. Smoothing down her scrub, she sat next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" She asked, startling the younger boy. This was surprising. Hadn't he noticed her sitting down?

"Y-you can see me?" he asked, nervous.

She quirked a delicate brow. "Of course I can see you. Everyone can see you here, Matthew."

"C-call me Canada...It's my proper name," he said shakily. "None of the others ever see me. They never even notice me unless they're thinking about me— I'm practically invisible."

"That's impossible," Ms. Wilson stated, deadpan. "You're not invisible."

Matthew nodded his head, not looking like he believed her.

"You know...?" Matthew started, catching her attention again. "France, he found me first... he taught me his language and how to live 'civilized' rather than running around in my forests. Then England came and wanted to be my big brother. They used to fight over me a lot, eh? Especially this one really big fight they had in the Plaines du Abraham, but England won and started taking care of me... They don't even look at me anymore."

"Matthew, that's not—" _Possible._ She was cut off by his voice.

"Canada," he snapped, and then looked down. "Sorry... I know I've got a bad temper, eh? When America tried to kidnap me last century... I got really mad. I burned down his White House. He burned down York first... and it hurt so bad. I've still got burns on my chest. I'm sure America does, too." He looked down in sorrow, a hand clutching the fabric of his shirt, over his heart.

She stared, eyes wide. She didn't know much about Canadian history, but she knew about the War of 1812. She also knew that it was completely impossible for him to have real memories of something like that. Especially in the way he was describing... as though it was a simple familial dispute. She... she wasn't sure if she wanted to ask Alfred for his side, for fear of him understanding and continuing the story. It wasn't possible.

"Okay, Canada..." She blinked, getting up from the bench, "I've got to get back to watching the others. Don't get into trouble, okay?"

"I couldn't if I tried..."

Glancing back one last time, she went back to her seat, and began fervently writing,

_Maybe this psychosis goes further than any of us have thought. I spoke to Matthew, who claimed that he became invisible because no one ever thought about him. Strangely enough, this does explain the others seemingly ignoring him, or forgetting his name._

_He also told me stories. Of his childhood. What his mind is telling him was his childhood, at least. He spoke like it was a true memory, like his parents fighting or his brother picking on him or something of equal relevance. He told me about what I'm sure is part of the history of Canada, about the French and English struggles to gain power over it. He told it as if his parents wanted custody over him._

_And then he spoke if the War of 1812._

_Like, actually spoke of it as if he were there. His eyes... he really believed it. That he was part of it. He also claimed to be burned on his chest._

_He didn't have any burns during his physical check when he was first admitted. Nor did Alfred._

_I've seen the birth certificate for Matthew Williams. He is only eighteen. He has no memory of any of that, I'm sure._

_This level of delusion..._

_~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~_

They had been outside for hours. England was let out to join them after the first two hours, choosing to read a book under one of the numerous elm trees that dotted the recreation area. Canada still hadn't moved, and still, no one noticed.

Italy and Romano had long since grown exhausted of their soccer game, and were curled up side-by-side in a sunny patch of grass, enjoying a little siesta. America was doodling on the tarmac with white chalk, sketching out what looked like, alarmingly, a battle strategy. Greece had been asleep for the last hour and a half or so, and China was wandering aimlessly around the area, looking at the various arrangements of flora in the gardens.

Everything was silent, save for the gentle breeze through the trees and the birds chirping in their branches. Everyone was calm. It was one of the times where everyone seemed like perfectly normal, sane, people.

"Ah, what do we have here?" a new, thickly accented voice spoke, drawing the attention of the half of the patients that were awake.

The newest patient stood, in all his glory, a single patch of sunlight illuminating his wavy blond locks dramatically, a charming sparkle in his eye and a rose in hand.

England nearly chucked his book at him for his flashy entrance.

"Hey France!" America called, waking up Romano with his voice. Veneziano remained out cold. Well, until Romano tugged on his ahoge, earning a slight yelp as Veneziano snapped up, smashing the top of his head into Romano's nose.

"Ow, son of a bi-" The brunet brother moaned, clutching his bleeding nose.

"Ve~ sorry brother..." Italy chuckled.

"Bonjour, mes amis!" France greeted, stepping forward, and taking note of the nurse that was standing next to England with a confused look on his face.

"You try anything, you letch..." England warned, his thick eyebrows furrowing.

France held up his arms in warding, "Ah, mon cher, you think so low of me!" He exclaimed, in faux distress.

The nurse ended up restraining England.

Canada had also wandered over to where the group was converging, not that anyone noticed. Romano was standing a good 20 feet away, shooting France wary looks and muttering obscenities about "Wine-bastards."

"B-bonjour France...Comment ça va?" Canada asked. France stared at him for a moment, before something went _click _in his brain.

"Oh, Mattieu! Ça va tres bien, merci!" he laughed, ruffling the boy's hair. "Your accent is absolutely atrocious."

"..." Canada shrugged, "Desolé."

"Ciao France-nii!" Veneziano waved from where he stood by his brother. France smiled and waved back.

This was when Ms. Wilson called the group over, stating that it was high time they went inside and went over the rules of the hospital and their therapy schedule. No one had any objections, so with a few "Ve~'s" from Italy and a bit of flirting from France, they were gone.

Ms. Wilson looked down at Francis' profile, looking it over before placing it with her others.

**Francis Bonnefoy, "France"**  
**Age: **26  
**Gender: **Male  
**Height: **5'9"  
**Birthday: ****July 14th**  
**Hair Color: **Blond  
**Eye Color: **Blue

_Arthur's reaction to Francis showing up was less than desirable. He had to be restrained. Although Francis did seem to be a bit...overwhelming at times._

_Once again, all patients responded with recognition to Francis, for better or worse. Alfred and Matthew __seemed__ to get along fine with him, and Feliciano __seemed__ friendly, but a little bit wary. Lovino __was__ spiteful and scared. Heracles didn't even wake up, and Yao had nothing to say._

___I wonder if all of their supposed past stories ____complement____ each other...?_

_**-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-**_

**"Plaines du Abraham"- the Plains of Abraham, located in Quebec. Where the English military essentially snuck up on the French and won Canada. (basically)**

**"York" - The old capital of Canada.**

**"Ahoge" - means something like 'foolish hair'. It's the Italy's hair curls.**

**"Bonjour, mes amis" - "Hello, my friends" in French**

**"Mon Cher" - "My dear" in French**

**"Comment ca va?" - "How are you"**

**"Ca va tres bien!" - "I am very good!"**

**Yeah...Review...please?**


	5. Quatre: Sans Nom

**Sorry for the late update. This week decided to spin me around and rape me up the ass. I missed two days of classes, and had to do a shitload of math homework without knowing what the fuck I'm doing. Then, lo and behold, Thursday rolls around and I'm not dying enough to go to school and BAM! we've got a math test! BY FUCK. Then I have to do THREE HOURS of homework that night, followed be working on Friday. AUGH.**

**Honestly though, I had the most of this done on SUNDAY. And I didn't get around to writing any more until today. Hell, I don't think I even turned my laptop on until today. So you not only get an extremely pissed off authoress, you only get ONE CHAPTER. I probably can't write any more tomorrow, 'cause I'll have a freaking candy hangover and even. more. math. homework. FUCK.**

******Okay. I'mma gonna stop bitching now. HAPPY FUCKING HALLOWEEN!**

**~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~**

**_Folie à Plusiers_**

Quatre: Sans Nom

_Four: Without Name_

_~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~_

The information session they were subject to lasted little more than thirty minutes, but it seemed to drag on for hours. It certainly didn't help that Veneziano felt the need to spout random information every few seconds, and France made passes at everyone in the room at least once. America was strangely quiet (for once in his life), Canada went unnoticed by everyone but the hospital staff, and England and Romano juggled their time between listening to the psychiatrist and shooting hateful glares at France. China nodded and asked questions when necessary, and Greece stared on in disinterest.

He was bored. So very bored.

There was virtually nothing for the lethargic Greek to do in the hospital. He usually spent all of his time in the ruins of his Mother's city, excavating and restoring her monuments to their former glory. Nothing like that was here.

He and his Mother's kingdom were separated by thousands of miles of land and ocean.

It made him... detached. He hadn't thought that being so far away would make him so depressed, but it did. With nothing to do, nothing to work for, all he wanted to do anymore was sleep.

Which is what he'd be doing right now, if the plastic chair he was sitting in wasn't so uncomfortable. That, and the painful kicks to the shin Romano graced him with every time he started to nod off warded sleep away. So he was stuck, listening disinterestedly to the Head Psychiatrist droned on and on about the different therapy classes they'd be forced to attend. What was this, a crazy ward, or a preschool?

"Each of you will have a one-on-one session with me every week, for one hour. You will rotate through Group, Art, Music, and other such therapies until further notice, starting tomorrow. For now, I'll expect each and every one of you to listen to Ms. Wilson," The middle-aged man gestured to the nurse, who was sitting in the back, "As she will tell you where to go and what to do. Now, is there anything you need repeated, or are unsure of?"

"Ve~ When can we eat pasta—"

Yes. Greece was very bored here.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"Ve~ Do you think they'll serve pasta for dinner, Romano?" Italy babbled on excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he walked alongside his elder brother. The group of patients were being herded down a previously abandoned hallway, on their way to the 'Cafeteria' in that wing of the hospital.

"Not a chance, idiot," came his snarky reply. Italy immediately deflated, whining and wringing the bottom of his light green shirt in his hands. Romano rolled his eyes at this, and walked faster.

"Aww, c'mon, don't be such a stick in the mud!" America chided, moving over to walk beside the Vargas brothers, slinging an arm over Romano's shoulders.

"Don't touch me you dirty son of a—" Romano spat, but cut himself short as he caught sight of one of the nurses edging closer, ready to stop a fight. Romano may have had a dirty mouth and foul temper, but he was still a coward.

"America, you git, stop harassing the poor lad," England's voice cut the short silence. "None of us need any more stress."

"Stress?" America repeated, looking back over his shoulder at England, "I'm not under any stress. Why are you stressed?"

"We're in a bleeding loony bin!" England hissed. "If that doesn't give you enough stress, then maybe you really _do_ belong here!"

"We—" America silenced himself, much like Romano had earlier, at the sound of one of the nurses clearing her throat. England shut his mouth as well, lest he ended up locked up again, or worse.

"Aiyah, I'm starving, aru..." China grumbled quietly.

"We're almost there. _Patience__, Chine._" France chuckled, twirling a strand of his hair around a finger. Silence fell over the group, save for the near-silent tapping of their shoes against the linoleum floor.

Canada sneezed.

Everyone else jumped, startled, as they looked around in confusion.

"A ghost, aru?"

"Waaah! A ghost? Don't hurt me, I have family in heaven!"

"It came from over there, you ninnies."

Everyone turned, with a certain amount of apprehension, toward Canada, who chuckled sheepishly, blushing.

"Sorry, eh..." Canada apologized.

"_Mon Dieu! Amérique, tu es mort?"_ France asked in disbelief, looking back and forth between America and his 'ghost'.

"Oh, wow. America's a zombie then?" Greece asked, only mildly interested.

"Ve~? A zombie?" Italy whimpered, glancing fearfully at America.

"I'm not dead!" America proclaimed, looking around skeptically at the other nations.

"I'm not a ghost, either!" Canada whined quietly, picking up Kumajirou, who was clawing at his pants.

"Who?" chorused Kumajirou and half the other nations.

"I'm Canada!"

"Huh?...Oh! Canada!" England blinked, as if he just remembered something. (Which, of course, he did.) The others made various signs of recognition, and Canada's form seemed to solidify a bit.

"Hey Matt, when'd you get there?" America asked, smiling.

"I've been here the whole time, Alfred, _you _just forgot about me again." Canada stomped his foot, upon realizing that he was fully tangible again.

"Well, I..."

No one got to say anything further, as they were brought to a stop by the nurses leading them, and ushered inside the small cafeteria to eat.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Dinner passed with only minimal damage. France ended up with tomato in his hair after he tried to hit on Italy, England was slightly pissed that they didn't have any Earl Grey, and Greece fell asleep in his plate.

The food wasn't too bad either. Certainly not what any of them were used to eating, nor was it up to Italy or France's gourmet standards, but it was still edible. Unlike England's cooking, America had pointed out.

The cook (there was only one, since the number of patients in the hospital had decreased considerably), watched on with amusement as the patients squabbled back and forth with one another. Somehow, he was feeling strangely lucky that he had to stay even with the reduced hospital staff. Everyone else was missing out on some funny shit.

"Everyone look up here!" Nurse Wilson ordered, as she stood at the head of the tables, looking ever the group of eight sternly, "You now have free time, until twenty hundred hours. That's nine o'clock, okay? You have free roam of this floor only, and there is to be no one going outside. Am I understood?"

"_Oui, madamoiselle__,__" _France purred, winking. Ms. Wilson bit back an aggravated sigh.

"That's another thing. From Arthur's reaction to you, Francis, I had it cleared with the Head to make a room change." At this, Arthur gave a relieved sigh. "And since Arthur doesn't seem to get along with Alfred either, we've decided to put Francis with Alfred, and Matthew with Arthur."

"Ha! Have fun rooming with Mom, Mattie!" America teased, elbowing his brother lightly in the side.

"Oh shut up..." Canada retorted good-heartedly, "At least no one will die this way. Or end up gagged and bound on their bed..." he added as an afterthought, glancing pointedly at France.

"_Mon cher_, you wound me! Surely I have better taste than that thick-browed Brit," France cried melodramatically.

"Can it, you sodding frog," England hissed.

"_Maman, Papa..."_ Canada groaned at the same time America snickered, "Get a room!"

England was in the middle of a rather foul-mouthed comeback, when a loud_ BEEP_ sounded through the room, followed by a booming voice over the PA system.

"Nurse Wilson, Doctor Eticott needs you in his office immediately."

"I'm on my way," Ms. Wilson replied, turning to one of her assisting nurses and whispering, "Keep an eye on them, for Pete's sake," and striding briskly out of the room, leaving only awkward silence.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"You needed to see me, sir?" she asked as she stepped into the large office, eying the recent clutter of books and papers scattered across the office. Most of them were about the workings of the human brain and various mental diseases that could stimulate mass delusions.

"Yes, yes. Please sit down," he offered, scratching his short brown hair lightly.

Noting that the chair was likewise occupied with books, she nodded and situated herself on the lean-back couch that was often intended for patients.

"We've got more calls," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"How many?"

"Two," he paused, "These two might be a little... different from the rest. Apparently, the two separate hospitals were already contacting each other, because the patients seemed to be immediately focused on finding each other. They know everything about the other and then some. The facilities there are already sending the two together before bringing them to MacFarlane's."

"Where did the calls come from?" Ms. Wilson asked, leaning forward slightly and crossing her legs.

"Stockholm and Helsinki. I already took the liberty of getting their profiles faxed to me," he announced, offering her two sheets of paper. Taking the papers into her hands, she glanced at them briefly, and then back at her employer.

"Meet subjects 'Sweden' and 'Finland'. Berwald Oxenstierna and Tino Väinämöinen."

**-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-**

**'Patience, Chine.' - "Patience, China."**

**"Mon dieu! Amérique, tu es mort?" - "My God! America, you're dead?" (Ehehe. Didja know that 'Amérique' is feminine in French?)**

**"Oui, Madamoiselle," - "Yes, Ma'am," ('Madamoiselle refers only to unmarried women. like 'Miss' to 'Mrs')**

**"Maman, Papa..." - "Mom, Dad..."**

**I didn't write in any of the Nurse's Notes in this chapter, seeing as it was used to bring in Finland and Sweden rather than anything else. But those notes, as well as the profiles for Tino and Berwald, will be included in the next installment.**

**REVIEW, PLEASE? (Look, It's English this time!)**


	6. Cinq: Folie de Matin

***Thank you to a reviewer who pointed out that France's birthdate/Bastille Day is July 14th; it has been edited!**

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

**_Folie à Plusiers_**

Cinq: Folie de Matin

_Five: Morning Insanity_

_~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~_

Nurse Wilson held the two newest sheets of paper in her hands, glancing up and down, back and forth from the papers to the other ones she'd collected over the past days. There was still nothing. No connections between patients, no shared genetics aside from the Vargas brothers, no record of contact between patients, no past history of physical or mental illness in any of the patients.

This was turning out to be rather frustrating. There was no logical reason for any of the patients to have either delusions OR hallucinations, and certainly nothing to explain why they were all connected, or how. And now there were two more to add to the list of growing patients.

**Berwald Oxenstierna, "Sweden"**

**Age: **21

**Gender: **Male

**Height: **5'11"

**Birthday:** June 6th

**Hair Color:** Blond

**Eye Color:** Green

**Tino Väinämöinen, "Finland"**

**Age: **20

**Gender: **Male

**Height: **5'5"

**Birthday: **December 6th

**Hair Color: **Blond

**Eye Color: **Violet

With a sigh, she cast the sheets onto her desk on top of the others, and grabbed her typical clipboard, glancing down at her hurried scribbles from yesterday's events. They were scrawled haphazardly for the most part, as she had been writing while attempting to multitask.

_Francis may prove to be a problem. It was already readily apparent that neither Arthur nor Lovino got along with him very well. So much so, in fact, that I think it is necessary to switch up the bed arrangements immediately. Matthew seems to be the only one who gets along __with both Arthur __and Francis, so I will put him with Arthur and Alfred with Francis._

_Heracles is showing symptoms of depression. At first I thought it might just be jet lag from his flight from Athens, but it's been nearly three days, and he seems to be worsening. He has drowsiness, and lack of interest in practically everything. Whenever he is not asleep, his mind seems to be elsewhere. As soon as proper individual diagnosis starts, I'll bring this up with Dr. Eticott and suggest an antidepressant._

_Another incident involving the other patients forgetting about Matthew occurred at about 18:30 hours. Matthew seemed irritated at this, and pointedly accused his brother of forgetting him, which the other did not deny. The other patients seemed to think that Matthew was Alfred's ghost, __and while I__ do admit that they look similar, it seemed a little ridiculous at the time._

_Alfred and Matthew also seem to have taken up referring to Arthur and Francis as "Mom" and "Dad", respectively. Alfred also seems to be the only one who calls anyone else by their real name, and the only one he does is Matthew, calling him by "Mattie" or "Matt". This shows that somewhere in their minds, they still think of each other as people, right?_

Taking a few short moments to search for a pen, she added one more note.

_Patients __"Sweden" and "Finland" are to arrive at MacFarlane's around 12:00 hours tomorrow. The hospitals in Stockholm and Helsinki have already arranged to bring the patients together for the journey. I'm interested at these two patients, mainly because they are obviously very close to one another._

_I heard from Dr. Eticott that the patients claim to be married. I'm not sure if same-sex marriage is even legal __in either__Sweden or Finland._

___I can't help but notice that all of the existing patients are men. I fail to see how gender could have any effect on the condition, but still, it's the only connection I can see between all of the patients. It is still possible for a female patient to show up, so I wouldn't count on that theory._

_~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~_

Romano did not have a pleasant morning. Not by a long shot.

The stupid rooms were small and square and the beds were hard and smelled funny. Not to mention the fact that he was roomed with his half-wit little brother. Sure, he still loved Veneziano and all, but he was an idiot. Not even Romano could deny. He even became friends with that goddamned potato-bastard, for Christ's sake!

And then, THEN, there was the fact that the hospital staff apparently couldn't allow him to sleep naked. Veneziano either.

So you had two unhappy, fully clothed Italians with opposite personalities locked in a square room for some ten odd hours? You do not get a happy South Italy out of that deal. Especially after Veneziano began his incessant whining for Romano to let him sleep with him.

And of course, Romano had to give in to his brother after the whines neared their second hour.

So there he was, trying to sleep with his brother latched onto him and making some _damned weird _noises. He tried to fall asleep, he really did, but he was stuck between his annoying clone and the wall. Not to mention that the sounds coming from Veneziano started to sound like something out of a porno. Not that he would know, of course!

And he was stuck like that until the wee hours of the morning, just as the light started to shine through the barred windows. Still awake, eyes bloodshot, with Veneziano sleeping like the dead and sounding like a bitch in heat.

Now, this was pushing him to the limit as it was, but any self-control he might've had left was thrown to the wind when he heard Veneziano mutter, "Germany..." Under his breath. Hearing that bastard's name coupled with the nearly _erotic _noises from his brother would be what made Romano snap.

"Wake the HELL UP, Veneziano, RIGHT NOW!" he screamed, grabbing Italy by the shoulders and shaking him rather violently.

"Aaahhh!" Veneziano shrieked as he woke up, trying to squirm out of his brother's grasp, to no avail. Romano kept shaking him, accidentally smacking his head off the wall a couple of times, screaming profanities all the while.

"I'll teach you to call that fucking asshole's name in your fucking sleep, retard—"

"Romano! St-stop it, please! This really hurts, owowowow—aahhh! Stoppit, please, I'll do anything!"

"Like hell!"

The brothers were a little bit too focused on this little morning affair to even notice the door to their room being unlocked and thrown open, three nurses rushing in, obviously having heard the racket coming from inside. Quickly and quietly, they grabbed Romano's arms, pulling him backwards off his brother.

"What the hell? Let me go, you crazy bitches!" Romano protested, kicking his legs and trying to wrestle his arms away from the nurses. Veneziano, now free from his brother, scooted back up against the wall, away from the nurses and Romano.

"D-don't hurt him!" he pleaded, tears starting to well up in the corners of his doe eyes. None of the nurses paid him any heed, all too busy trying to restrain his brother. Two were pinning him on his back by the arms, and the third restraining his legs so he couldn't kick anymore.

His tears came faster when he saw one of the nurses pull a needle out of her pocket, uncapping it and flicking it a couple of times. Veneziano's eyes widened as she pushed some of the liquid out to get rid of any bubbles, and then stuck the sharp point deep into his brother's arm, injecting him with the fluid. Romano yelled, attempting to rip his arm away, but the other nurses kept him held tight.

Italy started to whimper as he saw Romano's muscles begin to go lax, his attempts at freedom becoming feeble. Romano sunk back into the bed, arms falling limp by his sides and eyes blinking rapidly and struggling to keep sight of what was in front of him. One of the nurses bent down close to his ear.

"Lovino Vargas, can you hear me? We've injected you with a sedative. You are going to faint for a few minutes, okay? You'll regain full motor skills in a couple of hours, but for now we're going to transport you to another room."

Romano barely heard half of her words before he lost consciousness. The nurse talking to him straightened back up, calling out into the hall for one of her co-workers to wheel in a gurney.

It was short work for the three nurses to load and strap Romano onto the gurney, make sure that he was still out cold, and take him away down the hall. The nurse who had sedated him glanced back into the room, seeing Veneziano still curled up, crying, on the bed in the corner. Cautiously, she approached the bed, leaning over to get a better look at his face, which was buried in his arms.

"Feliciano, are you alright?"

He flinched at the sound of her voice, lifting his head just enough to catch sight of her with frightened eyes. If it was possible, he might've sunk further into the corner he was in.

"D-don't hurt me, please..." he whimpered, glancing at her hand as if to make sure she didn't have another needle meant for him.

_The nurse straightened, seeing that it was ____her __that Feliciano was scared of, and backed away. Opening the door, she sighed at the muffled sobs coming from the back of the small room and closed the door._

_~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~_

America danced a little on the balls of his sock-covered feet, trying to see out the small window on the door. The window that, conveniently, was _just _a little too high for him.

America had been awake when the screaming had started in Italy and Romano's room, and so, naturally, he wanted to know what was going on. France had been jolted awake at Romano's loud voice, but he didn't seem to share America's curiosity to find out what was happening.

A trio of nurses who he didn't know had run past the door about five minutes ago, and the screams had died shortly after that. And now, if he wasn't mistaken, that was Romano he saw, strapped to a gurney, unconscious, and being rolled away to god knows where.

Ruffling the hair at the back of his head, he turned away from the window in favor of looking at France. The Frenchman himself looking a bit disheveled from his rude awakening, as was apparent from the way he looked back at America with bleary eyes.

"So, what was it?" France asked, stifling a yawn.

"Still don't know, man..." America replied, flopping back down on his bed and taking off his glasses to clean them on his shirt. "Romano's out cold and being carted away on a stretcher. And I know you can hear Italy crying from here, these walls are like, paper-thin."

As if to prove his point, he knocked on the wall his bed was up against a couple of times, "Hey Mattie, Mom, you hear that?"

He was given a rather tired, "Yeah, I hear you, eh?" from Canada in reply. England merely grumbled some choice expletives.

"Whaddaya think all that noise was about?" he asked through the wall.

"Dunno," Canada answered. "Think Romano's gonna be okay? That sounded pretty bad, eh Al?"

"Yeah. Be thankful you don't have the room right next to them. At least Greece and China are across the hall." He chuckled, playing with the flyaway hair on his head.

"Don't s'pose they'll see fit to tell us?" England yawned on the other side of the wall.

"Not a chance, _mon cher, _and it doesn't sound like Italy is in the mood to talk." France yawned too. Followed by America and Canada in unison. Damn those contagious yawns.

"On a brighter note," America piped up, "They're gonna be letting us out soon. It's gotta be getting close to eight."

As if on cue, the sound of their door unlocking and swinging open graced their ears, artificial light filling the room. Nurse Wilson stood in the doorway.

_"You've got ten minutes to get dressed and to the cafeteria for breakfast."_

_~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~_

"I take it you all heard the noise this morning?" Greece asked as he rubbed at his eyes, trailing behind China and France as they made their way, not escorted this time, to the 'cafeteria', or whatever they wanted to call it. In reality, it was little more than a room with tables set out in it.

"Sure did!" America confirmed, elbowing Canada, who was busy brushing his hair with his fingers, "All of us did, right Canada?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Wasn't exactly easy to overlook. Or hear...whatever..." the blond mumbled distractedly, trying to untangle a knot in his hair.

"No one knows what happened, aru?" China asked, looking over his shoulder to the younger nations.

America shook his head in the negative, "And I don't think Italy will talk about it..." he glanced back over his shoulder at the small brunet. Italy was trailing at least ten feet behind everyone else, staring aimlessly at the floor while he walked, his eyes wide and troubled. Tear tracks were still visible on his cheeks, and his eyes were red and puffy.

"He looks terrible. Poor kid." Greece agreed, shaking his head sadly. "I can't help but wonder what went on, though."

"Join the club." Canada sighed, letting his hands fall back to his sides. He paused momentarily, staring down at his shoes, and grumbling a little as he noticed the thick fabric was becoming translucent.

"HEY!" He yelled, successfully drawing the attention of everyone but Italy, who was still lost in his own world. Canada held out his arms, pleased to see that they were once again opaque, "Thank you. I'd like to stay visible for a day, please. _Ne. Me. Oubliez. Pas._"

All the other nations looking vaguely shocked by Canada's outburst, they nodded mutely (America cowering a little) and continued walking, Italy trailing numbly behind.

When the group finally arrived at the cafeteria, they were surprised to find Nurse Wilson already waiting for them, holding her telltale clipboard under her left arm with a pen in hand. They, sensing that there was obviously something to be said, sat down at the tables and looked at her.

"Two more patients will be arriving today," she spoke slowly, giving time for her words to sink in. "I'm guessing that their names aren't going to hold much sentiment for you, so I'll announce them to you as patients Sweden and Finland."

At this, a few, namely England and France perked up, they knew that Finland was kind of a pushover. The rest, however slightly groaned at the mention of Sweden. Why couldn't it have been anyone less... intimidating?

"Their flight is scheduled to land at 11:30 hours, so they are expected here between 12:00 and 13:00 hours. Secondly, you are all to attend a group therapy with Dr. Bolson after breakfast. It will be held in the commons room, so don't worry about getting lost on the way there. It's to start at 09:45 and run until 10:45 hours. After that, you will have some outdoor recreation until noon. Any problems?"

No one made any noise, and Ms. Wilson was about to take her leave, when China tentatively raised his hand.

"Well, we were all wondering what happened to Romano, aru. We all heard the fight, aru," the Asian asked, not making eye contact, instead choosing to look at Veneziano, who sank into his chair and hugged himself.

"Just a little outburst. Lovino had to be sedated, and we're keeping him in solitary until further notice," she assured, startled slightly when America slammed one of his hands down on the table.

"So what, if one of us gets mad, you're gonna shoot us up and stick us in a padded room for the day?" he demanded, glaring up at her, the other nations nodding at his question. "That's hardly fair, isn't it? Romano's always been a bit of a violent dick. No one's ever gotten really hurt by it before!"

"For once, I agree with the bloke." England narrowed his eyes, "This is like obedience school for Nations. Lawks, expecting us to bow to your every word!"

"_C'est vrai,_" France agreed. "And look at poor Italy. He's terrified."

"I fail to see how his brother scaring him has anything to do with that." Nurse Wilson interjected, folding her arms over her chest.

"His brother?" Greece asked, "Romano's never scared him like that. He's always loved him."

"He's probably traumatized from watching your underlings 'deal with' Romano, aru," China pointed out.

"I know, eh?" Canada agreed, violet eyes narrowing, "I don't know why you huma—"

"BE QUIET!" A voice rang from the side of the room.

All heads turned to look at Veneziano, curled up in his chair, bangs obscuring his face from view. His shoulders were trembling ever so slightly.

"All of you... just stop it," he continued shakily. "I-I know that Romano-nii was angry, but I don't know why. I'm used to him being like that. But then the ladies came in and held him down and... Yeah, it scared me, but I don't want you all to have the same thing happen to you!" Italy nearly shouted the last part.

All the nations closed their mouths, realizing that Italy was right, and if they kept going, they were going to end up getting needles shoved in their arms, too. Shooting mistrusting looks at Ms. Wilson from their seats, they all returned their attention to the table and each other, blatantly ignoring the nurses altogether.

Ms. Wilson sighed, knowing that she likely just lost the trust of all her patients in a single morning, but still not quite comprehending _how. _Pinching the bridge of her nose to quell the headache she knew was coming, she sat down in a chair by the door, taking her clipboard out from underneath her arm.

_Romano being put into solitary confinement seems to have had a huge effect on all of the patients. At first, when they were unsure of what had happened, they seemed merely curious, but when they found out about him being sedated and confined, they seemed...offended? I'm not sure how to put it._

_Alfred seems to have been __the one to start it. After all, he does seem to be the one to voice his opinions the most. He mentioned that Lovino has always been as aggressive as he was this morning, but then again, there's no way that he can be sure of that. Alfred had never met the Vargas family before his incarceration. The other patients readily agreed with Alfred._

_Arthur made mention of how our methods are akin to an obedience school. "__For Nations," __as he put it._

_Matthew as well, it seemed that he was about to comment on the hospital staff being "humans", and he used it like a derogatory __term; __as though they were above humanity themselves. It was the first time I've __ever__ seen Matthew, Heracles, or Yao become incensed._

_Feliciano screamed to catch our attention. Somehow, I think that this was unexpected, even for the other patients. He doesn't seem like the kind of person to yell to garner attention. He told me flat out that it wasn't his brother that scared him, but the nurses, and he warned the other patients to stop so that they weren't sedated as well. Although I honestly doubt things would have escalated past a few restraints._

_The patients seem to view themselves as animals kept in a cage. They don't really understand that there is something wrong with them, and it confuses them. They weren't volatile until Lovino was 'endangered', as I think they view it. They definitely don't think of themselves as human, that much I'm certain of. Even yesterday, when Matthew was telling me about France and England... he definitely wasn't referring to himself as a human._

___What kind of delusion would possess so many people into anthropomorphizing nations as themselves?_

_~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~_

**-Meanwhile-**

"Su-san? Su-san, wake up!" Finland elbowed the sleeping blond at his side lightly. The medical vehicle they were riding in came to a smooth stop in front of an airport in Helsinki.

Sweden opened his eyes slowly, not aware he had fallen asleep on the ride to the airport. Heck, it wasn't his fault he was tired, he'd spent all his time looking for Finland before some humans took him to a hospital. Well, at least the people there knew where to find his Tino. But the jet lag didn't really help once he actually got to Helsinki.

"Come on!" Finland smiled, tugging at his arm, "The plane to America's place is leaving soon!"

Sweden allowed a small smile to grace his lips, following his 'wife' out of the large vehicle, casting hard looks to the medical staff that flanked around them. Some of them backed away from the tall man, but there were a few brave ones who held their ground. Sweden knew that he wouldn't actually hurt any of them, Finland did too. But that didn't mean that he couldn't warn them to stay away from his wife.

"Stop being such a sourpuss," Finland chided, leaning into Sweden's chest as they walked. "You'll scare everyone if you keep you face like that, Su-san."

"Oh, w'll I?" he asked, tightening his grip on Finland's hand. "I m'ss'd you."

_Finland smiled, "I missed you, too. Now come __on__, everyone over with America is waiting!"_

_**-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-**_

**Wow. I feel like an ass after writing that bit with Romano. How could I do that to poor Italy?**

**Oh, and I might fiddle around with Sweden's accent a bit. Somehow, the whole "F'rg't m' v'w'ls" thing really annoys me. It does.**

**"Mon Cher" - "My Dear"**

**"Ne. Me. Oubliez. Pas." - "Don't. Forget. Me." (normally it would be "Ne m'oubliez pas", but he was pronouncing all the words)**

**"C'est vrai" - "It's true."**

**Yeah. Once again, No more new patients in this chapter. But Sweden and Finland WILL show up at MacFarlane's in the next chapter!**

******READ&REVEW?**


	7. Six: Pardonnez et Oubliez

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

**_Folie à Plusiers_**

Six: Pardonnez et Oubliez

_Six: Forgive and Forget_

_~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~_

The group therapy session could have gone much better. Not only were the patients still in a slightly volatile mood from the incident at breakfast, but they were all dead set on not listening to a single word Dr. Bolson said to them. The middle-aged man was the psychiatrist from the United Kingdom that had come with England, with wire-rimmed glasses and thinning roan hair.

For most of the hour-long session, the Nations merely sat in their semicircle of chairs and listened disinterestedly to the British doctor, throwing in a crude comment every now and then. Italy had calmed down, but still had yet to return to his childish nature. America was far from calm, but didn't do anything stupid for the sake of Italy's mentality.

Well, at least, he tried. But it was in the nature of the boisterous American to voice his opinion, and quite loudly at that. It was taking most of his focus simply to not shoot a particularly nasty comment at the psychiatrist. But alas, all good things must come to an end. This particular thing came to an end when the doctor foolishly made a passing mention of Romano, or as he said, 'Lovino'. America stood straight up from his chair, knocking it over with a clattering sound, and storming away from the group, choosing instead to sit on the couch on the far side of the room.

Francis and Arthur followed his example, for once not causing a fuss when they walked off together.

Nurse Wilson sat in her casual spot near the back of the room, noting the patient's behaviors with dismay, feeling that it was all her fault for bringing up anything about Lovino earlier. The patients had banded together and weren't letting anyone else in.

_And it was, in her mind, her fault._

_~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~_

Group therapy was obviously a bad idea. After even Canada ceased to listen to the doctor, it was called to an end, and Nurse Wilson called Dr. Eticott over the PA system and asked whether or not they should just take the patients out to the Recreation Area ahead of schedule. He figured that it was probably for the best, so that the patients might be able to have some time, unconfined, to themselves. Perhaps it would help to cool their heads.

And with that, the nurses rounded up the fuming patients, leading them outside to the large area. Amazingly, this was accomplished without so much as a single outburst from anyone. In fact, none of the Nations uttered a single word as they made their way out the double doors and into the fenced-off park that was the Recreation Area. The patients wandered off through the area, each finding their own place, while the nurses took their sentry places along the borders.

"America..?" Canada called after his brother as the elder made his way to the basketball courts. The pissed off blond looked over his shoulder at Canada, before motioning for him to follow with a hand. The shy boy nodded, trotting after his brother to a spot in the tarmac that was shaded by a large elm tree.

"Whassup?" America asked, sitting down on the pavement.

"It's just, well...what if ignoring the nurses here is a really bad idea?" He wrung his hands together, "I mean, I know that none of us really need or deserve to be in here in the first place, but they _were _just doing their jobs, eh? L-like Germany never really had a choice in the matter when the Second World War came around. They have to follow certain rules too."

"Psshh, yeah I know, it's just...really pissing me off. We're goddamned_ Nations _for Chrissakes!" America waved his arms around, "We sure as heck don't deserve to be treated like this! And those nurses, the doctors, everyone...they're _my_ people. It my fault that Romano got hurt."

"But we don't really know if he was hurt, eh? They had to knock him out so he wouldn't hurt Italy, but they didn't know that he wouldn't seriously hurt his brother. For all we know, they didn't hurt Romano at all."

America paused, glancing back at the Head Nurse who was in her normal spot on a bench, and looked back at Canada, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and ruffled the younger Nation's wavy hair.

"Y'know, you might just have a point, Mattie." He flashed a grin, "'Sides, they're Americans, right? Henceforth, I can't stay mad at them for long; the awesomeness coursing through our veins doesn't allow it! And you're right, Romano's probably just fine. Hell, I bet he's awake right now, just waiting to come out here!"

Canada smiled at his brother's change in heart, draping an arm around the elder boy's shoulders.

"But you know," America continued. "You're a total wuss. Then again, I suppose you can't help being such a bleeding heart," he teased.

"Not a bleeding heart," Canada pouted, "Peacekeeper."

"Whatever you say, Mattie."

Meanwhile, the other Nations had settled themselves down into their own niches. France was conversing idly with China on different ways to care for the numerous different flowers that dotted the gardens, England had settled himself back under the same elm tree he used last time and pulled out a book, _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_, and began reading. Greece seemed to be unusually energetic after the small riot earlier, and climbed up into the mid-branches of a tree with the agility of a cat, lounging on a thick bough. It didn't last long though, before one of the nurses came over and demanded that he come down, because it wasn't safe. Greece obliged grudgingly, swinging down from his spot halfway up the tree.

Italy however, was sitting in a sunny area. Propped up on his arms as he stared around at his fellow Nations in worry. What if they got taken away from him, too? One thing Veneziano knew was that he hated being alone. Almost as much as he hated his friends getting hurt. And he knew, he _knew, _that if the others didn't stop being so mad, that they would get taken away from him too.

_'But__,'_ he thought optimistically, _'Romano-nii is okay. He's not dead, and he'll come back for me. We're both really weak, but we've gotta stay together, if we're together we're strong enough! Then everyone can be happy again. Even if Germany isn't here yet, I'll be really__,__ really happy! But when Germany gets here, Romano will get mad and leave me...but __he'll__come back because we love each other. And Germany will definitely come. Germany ALWAYS comes for me__!'_

The auburn-haired boy let a wide grin stretch his face. Everything would be okay once this all blew over, he knew it!

The sound of footsteps behind him made him turn his head, only to find the Head Nurse, Ms. Wilson, standing behind him. Out of pure reflex, he flinched away slightly, before reminding himself that she didn't want to hurt him, or anyone else.

Ms. Wilson sighed in disappointment when Feliciano flinched away from her, but she knew it was to be expected. When the boy relaxed, she offered him a kind smile, "Feliciano, would you mind talking to me for a few minutes? There are some things I've been meaning to ask you."

Without even thinking, he nodded his head, rising from his spot on the sunny grass and following the shorter woman over to a bench. To his surprise though, she did not pick up her clipboard. She merely moved it away so that they could both sit on the bench.

"I know this might not be the best time to ask questions," she started, "but I also want you to know that I don't want to hurt you or make you uncomfortable in any way. You don't have to answer some of the questions if you don't want to."

He nodded again.

"Okay, so, I want you to tell me about your friends." She smiled sincerely, "I heard you talking a couple of days ago about some people named Spain and Germany, correct?"

"Uh... Ve~" he replied, turning his head to look at her, a little bit scared.

"Don't worry Feliciano—" she paused when the carefree boy frowned ever-so-slightly, "—Italy. We just want to know who to expect, so that we can be sure that they're alright here. We're only trying to help." Italy seemed to lighten up at that.

"Ve~! Okay!"

"So, what can you tell me about Spain?" She asked.

"Spain-nii is a really close friend. After our Grandpa died, me and Romano were owned by Austria, but Romano..." Italy broke his sentence to giggle, "He was really grumpy and wouldn't do his chores, so Mr. Austria gave him to Spain. Romano didn't really like him at first, but Spain's a really nice guy once you get to know him! He's really funny and laid-back, and he grew the best tomatoes ever!

"Anyways, Romano lived with Spain-nii for a long time, but he always thought that Spain and everyone only wanted him because he was Jii-san's successor-"

"Jii-san?" Nurse Wilson questioned, quirking a brow.

"Ve~ Sorry, it means Grandpa. Japan gave me a few Japanese lessons back in the forties, and I didn't learn very many words, they all sounded so funny! 'Nii' is kinda like saying that Spain's my big brother!" Italy chirped happily, bouncing in his seat, all previous worries forgotten.

"Oh." Ms. Wilson uttered. Back in the forties? Wasn't that during WW2? It was, she remembered. Japan and Italy were part of the Axis Powers... it made sense that he would think that, but... it was still physically impossible.

"Yeah! So, since others like France-nii were always trying to get him, Romano thought they just wanted his inheritance. I guess it might've been kinda true...But then one day, he got captured by Turkey. Oh, wait! I guess he was the Ottoman Empire back then. Jeez, this was a long time ago! Yeah, so, Spain-nii came and saved him! He acted real mad, but I know he was really happy that Spain came for him.

"He still lived with Spain-nii after that, but he got independence sometime after that, and I became independent from Austria, too!" Italy beamed, "Brother's still really close to Spain, though he gets really mad when I bring it up. I know he really cares about him though! You should've seen him when Spain got really sick before he adopted the Euro currency!"

Ms. Wilson smiled and nodded, trying not to think about his ridiculous the story sounded, she never was that much of a history buff, but it did explain why Lovino would get so mad at Feliciano whenever the younger brother spoke about this 'Spain' character.

"I see. He sounds like a great guy," she said, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, "And what about Germany?"

"Germany is great! He's really tall and strong and—" he broke off again, a look of panic crossing his childish face. "W-wait! If I tell you about them, you're not going to go after them are you?" he asked, terrified.

She shook her head, "Of course not. It would be impossible to find one person in the entire country, wouldn't it Italy? We don't really have a choice but to wait until they come to us. We're not going to look for them, don't worry. We just need to know who to expect. Also, I admit, I'm having a lot of fun talking to you; you seem like such a nice boy."

Feliciano's smile returned threefold. "Good! Well, so, Germany... he's really nice! I mean, no one else seems to think so, and Romano, England and France all seem to hate him, but... but they're probably all still mad from the Second World War. It wasn't even Germany's fault! His boss was totally crazy!" Italy protested, whining loudly. "Anyway... I guess I first met Germany during World War One, when he captured me. I haven't really been strong since I was little. We became really good friends after that though, and I started working for him. Then he got his crazy boss and World War Two started, and I allied with him, and he found Japan and we formed the Axis Powers, but you probably know that already, a lot of people do...

"Ve~ but anyway, even after we lost the war, the three of us have been really good friends! Germany's always so nice to me, even though I'm always causing problems. He helps me out whenever I'm in a pinch, and I help him out, too! I go to is house a lot, and he gets mad because I always break stuff, but it's alright in the end! Oh! And he's got these three really cute dogs, but he let his brother name one! Isn't he so nice! Their names are Blackie, Aster, and Berlitz, and they're the biggest dogs I've ever seen!"

"He has a brother?" Nurse Wilson asked.

"Mhmm, Prussia!" Italy blabbered on, "Though he's not a real Nation anymore. I guess since his country was dissolved that he's just kinda... there? He's really funny, though he doesn't really seem to like Mr. Austria and he gets Germany even madder than I ever do. It's okay though, because Germany forgives me whenever I make a mess, he's really nice!"

"You seem to get along really well with Germany," she stated, keeping her sharp eyes trained on his face.

"Ve~ Germany's my best friend in the whole wide world! Out of all of us! I love him!" Feliciano stood up from the bench, dancing around on his toes.

She nodded. "Thank you Feli— Italy, I think that's all we need to know. You should go and play with your friends," she suggested.

"Okay, I will! Ciao, Onee-chan!" Italy called as he ran over to where America and Canada were playing a game of 21 on the basketball court. Needless to say, America was winning, while Canada was protesting why they couldn't play lacrosse instead ("C'mon Matt, d'you honestly think they'd let us play with lacrosse sticks in a nuthouse?" America laughed as he scored another basket.)

_Ms. Wilson watched the cheerful Italian boy go, before picking up her notebook and beginning to write down what Feliciano had just told her. While it was true that they weren't going to be looking for the patients, she still figured that she should tell Dr. Eticott about the possible patients, as well as keep the notes with __the__rapidly growing list of things she'd written down since this case started._

_~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~_

Romano blinked as he opened his eyes, bringing the blurry ceiling above him into better focus. Ugh. Damn he was tired, and his arm was throbbing where the damned nurse had stuck the needle into him. He couldn't bring his head down to inspect the damage, but he wouldn't have been surprised if the damn thing was bruised.

Letting his eyes roam around him, he saw that everything around him was painfully white. And bright; the light was hurting his eyes. He was lying on the only bed in the room, which was little more than a metal rectangle covered in soft padding. There was no headboard on the bed, probably so that no one could bludgeon themselves against it, and the walls around him looked padded. He couldn't really tell because the bed he was on was dead in the center of the room, though.

Feeling the heaviness in his limbs start to fade, he brought his arm up to inspect it. There was a ball of cotton held over the injection site by a band-aid, but the skin around it was still slightly purple. Probably because he was so tense when they gave him the shot.

"Fucking hell..." he muttered to himself, letting his arm flop back down beside him. His legs still felt like they had lead weights stuck to them, so he figured that he shouldn't be walking right now. What did she say... two hours? Two hours until he could move properly again? He couldn't really remember; he was already starting to go blank by the time she got to that part.

How long had he been unconscious?

There weren't any windows in the room, so he couldn't really tell. There was a ridiculously tiny window on the door, meant for the nurses and doctors to be able to make sure he wasn't dead, he supposed. Didn't matter anyway; he couldn't move to look out of it.

"This is all that damned German's fault," Romano huffed, rolling his head over onto its side. "Because he was always taking advantage of my dumbass brother... 'cause Veneziano's too stupid to tell that that damn Potato-Bastard has him fooled. Because that fucking Kraut is always with him."

He sniffed, feeling like he might cry. Goddamnit, that fucking sedative must've done something to him. The great Southern Italy never cried. Especially about his damn brother.

"Because fucking _Italy _is always with Germany. Because_ Italy _actually has someone who cares about him. Because _Italy _is so much more important than _me._" He berated himself, as a tear slid down his face. But he didn't have the strength to wipe it away. Because he wanted someone there who would do that for him, because he wanted someone who didn't just see him as the petulant, worthless half of his _brother's _country.

_"S-Spain you bastard, where are you..?"_

_~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~_

"C'me on, T'no. Or we're g'nna be late." Sweden said as he nudged Finland's shoulder. The smaller nation was staring out the window of the airplane, looking in awe at the runways and large stretches of grass outside the airport.

Okay...I'm coming, _Berwald_." Finland replied. He knew that Sweden only even used his human name if we wanted the tiny boy's attention, and he only ever said it back if he got it. Even if Sweden could be scary at times, Finland still felt a lot safer around him than he did around anyone else. Sweden just tended to keep him on a short leash because he didn't want him to leave again.

They filed off the plane, flanked by the medical staff that seemed to follow them everywhere. They were given their own section of the plane to sit in, and it was separated by a sheet from the rest of the passengers on the machine. The two Nordic nations figured it was because, since everyone thought that they were crazy, they didn't want them to be let loose to cause mayhem. Humans tended to overreact that way.

Once they entered the inside of the airport, their 'guardians', formed somewhat of a circle around the two, blocking them from the other people. They lead them over through the crowd to the luggage, and went to go find the small bags of belongings that the patients were allowed to bring with them.

"Can we at l'st get 'r own bags?" Sweden asked one of the hospital personnel. He really didn't like being crowded around and watched like a mouse by a hungry hawk

.

The nurse, more than a little intimidated by Sweden's stature, nodded hurriedly, although they followed closely behind, just to make sure that they didn't try to make a run for it. Sweden grabbed Finland's hand and tugged him along beside him to the conveyor belts that were circulating the luggage. Finland grabbed his hand back.

"Su-san, I can walk by myself!" he reminded the much taller man, "I don't need to be babied."

Finland paused when he noticed the telltale look of distress cross Sweden's face and the Swede quickly moved to put distance between the two of them, acting ashamed of himself.

"W-wait, I'm sorry Su-san!" Finland said hurriedly, panicked by the brooding look on Sweden's face. "Don't be like that, it's kinda scary!" he said, moving closer to the other man.

In the meantime, some of the personnel had taken it upon themselves to grab the Nations' luggage, seeing as the other two were too caught up in their momentary crisis to grab the bags when the machine brought them by.

"If you don't mind," One of the other nurses said, adjusting his glasses, "We should get going. It's a twenty minute drive to MacFarlane's, and we are already running a few minutes behind schedule."

_Sweden and Finland nodded, walking with the group of medical staff out of the airport and into the minivan that was waiting for them outside._

_~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~_

It was half past noon, and Nurse Wilson was just about to call the group of patients in for lunch when one of the receptionists rushed out to her, informing her of the arrivals of Berwald and Tino, and that the two new patients were currently in the Commons Room, waiting for the others to come inside.

Nodding and sending the young girl back inside, she turned to face the seven patients that were outside. They all seemed to have calmed down over the two and a half hours they'd been outside. She'd immediately noticed that Alfred and Matthew had gotten over that morning, and Feliciano was back to his normal, bubbly self after their conversation. The others had all loosened up after seeing that Feliciano was back to normal, and that Alfred seemed to forgive and forget.

"Hey, come over here!" she called to the group, pleased to see that they did eventually all walk to her. "I'm guessing that you're all getting hungry by now." A few heads nodded fervently. "But first, we're all going to head to the Commons Room to greet our newest patients!"

_The group, pleased to hear that they were going to see Finland and Sweden, made no fuss at all going back into the building with the nurses. Italy skipped ahead of the group, babbling on about how they should serve pasta for lunch. Unfortunately, they weren't going to, but Italy didn't need to know that._

_~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~_

Sweden and Finland were standing by the large windows in the Common Room when the group burst in, Italy and America at the front, and ran over to see their old friends. Italy hugged Finland quickly, and looked at Sweden, before deciding not to hug him as well. Sweden looked somewhat depressed at this.

"'Ow've you blokes been?" England asked, coming up to stand beside America.

"Better." Finland chuckled, "I don't really like flying; it makes my ears hurt."

"How sad!" France exclaimed with a lecherous grin, sliding his arm over the small blond's shoulder, stopping cold when he felt a menacing aura behind him.

"Fr'nce, take yer h'nd off my w'fe." Sweden warned, looking down at the Frenchman through his glasses. France whimpered and immediately removed his arm from Finland's shoulder.

"Su-san, don't say stuff like that!" Finland protested. "I'm not your wife."

"I'd just give up if I were you," Greece suggested to Finland. "This has been going on for _how _many centuries?"

Finland sputtered out an embarrassed reply as the rest of the group laughed.

Nurse Wilson chose this as her time to approach. "Well, now that you've all said your hellos, I'm sure that you're all hungry," she said as she ushered them out of the Commons Room and down the hallway they would take them to the cafeteria. While the group of patients went on ahead accompanied by another nurse, she stopped to speak to one who was in the small Nurse's Office.

"How is Lovino Vargas?" She asked the middle-aged woman who was filling out papers at the desk.

"He's doing well. He started walking around about half an hour ago."

Nurse Wilson paused. Half an hour? The sedative was supposed to wear off approximately _two hours ago!_ Did he have a bad reaction to it?

"Did he have a reaction to the sedative? He should've been fully functional after two hours." She asked, and the older nurse shook her head.

"He could move just fine after two hours, he just didn't want to."

"Pardon?"

"When I went in to check on him, he just told me to go away. He looked distraught, and he was probably crying earlier. He wasn't scared of me though, which I suppose is one good thing. Usually they're wary after they've been sedated. I asked him to do some basic movements, just to check his motor skills, and he seemed totally fine. I left, and he curled back up on the bed. I guess he's getting a bit restless now, so he's been pacing around."

Still a bit worried, she asked, "Should I give him a quick check?"

The other nurse shrugged. "You're the boss, do what you see fit."

Nodding, Nurse Wilson stepped out of the small office and made her way to the elevators, taking the lift up to the fourth floor. The patients were normally kept on the third, but the isolation wards were on the fourth. Stepping out of the elevator, she turned right and headed off down the hall. Lovino was in room 406, down another hall, and on the left side.

"Lo-Romano?" She corrected herself, knowing that they tended not to take to her calling them by their names. She slid her key into the lock and opened the door, "Can I come in?"

Lovino was sitting on the edge of the padded bed, staring at the floor as it if were the most interesting thing in the world. When she entered, he gave her a brief glance, before turning his reddened eyes back to the ground.

"What do you want?" he asked harshly.

"I just wanted to make sure that you were okay," she iterated, closing the door behind her. "I'm told that you seemed a bit upset earlier."

"So?" Lovino spat, turning away from her. "Why do you give a fuck about what I'm like? It's just your job!"

"Exactly, and it's my job _because _I care about you guys," she replied.

"Well, I'm just peachy, so screw off!"

"Romano, you mi—" she was cut off by his voice.

"Why do you call me that?" he asked, voice scratchy from yelling and crying, "Everyone else is all 'Lovino, your name is Lovino Vargas!' Well gee, three points for stating the obvious! I know my fucking name. But you're actually calling me Romano."

"Because you're less angry when I do." She stated, taking a step closer. Lovino didn't move away, "If you know your name, why do you insist on being called Romano?"

"Because it's fucking status! Humans aren't supposed to call nations by their names, just the same way you wouldn't call your damned boss 'Bob', or whatever the hell his name is. For Chrissakes, we don't even call _each other_ by our names unless we're really close!" He huffed, "But humans? Never. It's practically insulting us, and it's never a good idea to piss off a Nation."

She remained silent for a minute, processing this information.

"So...you're only acting so upset after you're called by name because it's an insult?" she repeated slowly. Lovino nodded. "Why're you telling me this?"

"Because you're the only one who will fucking get it in this godforsaken place! Because you actually make an effort to call us properly," Lovino replied, looking at her for once, his hazel eyes staring with conviction at her.

She blinked, "Alright..." She paused, "One of the other nurses will be bringing you some food by momentarily, please try to be nice to her. As long as you don't cause a ruckus, you'll be able to leave here in an hour, alright, Romano?"

He nodded, and she opened the door.

"H-hey, wait..."

She stopped, looking back to see Lovino watching her, indecision written all over his face.

"I...well..." He looked down. "Thanks, Onee-chan."

She thought for a second. Hadn't Feliciano called her by the same thing earlier?

"What does that mean?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"Big sister."

Eyes widening, she stepped out of the room locking the door once again behind her. She ran a hand worriedly through her hair.

_Maybe she was getting too involved._

_~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~_

After lunch was a fairly pleasant affair. Romano had been let out to be with the other patients, and to get acquainted with Sweden and Finland, whom he didn't seem to know all that well. He seemed to be in a much better mood, and didn't try to start any fights with Veneziano.

So, the new group of ten was in the Common Room, doing whatever the hell they felt like doing. America, Canada, China and France were playing two-on-two ping pong, and the game was becoming very much a sport.

"Hit it harder, France!" America taunted across the table. Canada whacked him upside the head with his paddle.

"Shut up and watch the ball," Canada scolded, returning France's serve across the table hard enough to send it bouncing over China's head. "One point for Team North America!"

"Silence," France replied, grabbing the ball and passing it to China to serve. His serve bounced up and hit America's glasses.

"Point for Team Eurasia, aru," China said smugly.

England kept score on a piece of paper, absentmindedly racking up tallies while sipping gingerly at a cup of tea.

"D'you have 'ny threes?" Sweden's voice came from a table across the room, where he, Finland, Italy and Romano had decided to play a game of Go Fish.

"Fuck!" Romano swore, throwing his three of clubs rather violently at Sweden.

"Finl'nd, got 'ny j'cks?"

"Go fish!"

"Ve~ It's my turn now!" Veneziano chimed happily, looking at his hand, "Sweden, do _you_ have any jacks?" He smiled innocently.

Sweden handed over his jack of diamonds.

"Brother, you have any tens?"

Romano looked down at his cards. "Seriously, what the fuck!" he demanded, throwing his ten of hearts at his younger sibling. "You guys are cheating, you bastards!"

"No I'm not~! Ve~ Finland, you got any aces?" Italy asked. Finland smiled and handed over the ace of hearts.

"I'm out, that was my last card," Finland said, sighing in disappointment.

Across the room, Greece, who apparently was still unusually energetic, seemed to be amusing himself by rolling back and forth on the couch, making the springs squeak in protest.

Nurse Wilson looked up as a loud beep echoed through the room, silencing the patients, and a voice came on over the P.A. System.

"Ms. Wilson?" It was Dr. Eticott.

_SQUEAAKKK_

"We've got a new patient arriving, there was a bit of miscommunication between our hospitals, and he's going to be arriving in four hours."

_SQUEAAKKK_

"Alright, but sir, are you sure you should be saying this right over the main P.A.?" she asked, concerned.

"I figure this saves having to tell the patients at a later time. I prefer that they be informed of all newcomers before they actually get to MacFarlane's." Indeed, the announcement had succeeded in garnering the attention of each and every patient on the room. Even Greece, as he continued to make the couch squeak.

_SQUEAAKKK_

"Okay. Where's this one from?" Ms. Wilson asked, knowing that this was also the question on everyone else's mind.

_SQUEAAKKK_

"He's on a flight from Ankara as we speak. The patient's name is Sadiq Adnan."

_SQUEA-CRASH! _"—WHAT!"

_Greece fell off the couch._

_**-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-**_

**Okay, I realize that Nurse Wilson is acting highly unprofessional. That's the POINT. She's SUPPOSED to be so don't bother bringing it up. I need to get all the Nations to start trusting her, so...yeah.**

**Yeah, so. Turkey in the next chapter!**

**And YAY for a little bit of implied Spain/Romano in this one! God, I love that pairing to bits and pieces!**

**_If you love me, You'll leave a review...? *pouts*_**


	8. Sept: À la grande consternation du Grèce

**Just fair warning: one of the pairings I'm DEFINITELY gonna be having in this fic, even if it's just passing mention, is Turkey/Egypt. I love that pairing to death and it seriously needs some more love! (sorry to all you Turkey/Greece hopefuls)**

**Disclaimer (that I've so frequently forgotten): Sorry guys, but no.**

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

******_Folie à Plusiers_**

Sept: À la grande consternation du Grèce et Italie du Sud...

_Seven: To the great dismay of Greece and South Italy..._

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Six o'clock rolled around much too fast for Greece's liking. In fact, he wouldn't have minded if time magically stopped and it never came at all. Hmm...maybe he should talk to England about one of his weird spells...

Currently, everyone's favourite Greek was curled up in an armchair in a cozy little room down the hall from the commons room. It was nearly the same setup, but it was much smaller and only sported a handful of reclining chairs, along with a television bolted to a wall (and covered with a Plexiglas case, bless them). Greece's frustration and lack of any good way to vent it inevitably led to him separating from the rest of the Nations and hiding away in the small room until the apocalypse same. Also known as Turkey.

Unfortunately, he had to have a nurse present with him if he was going away from the others, and this came in the form of a petite blond named Shelley. She seemed to want to get him to talk about why he was so upset, much to his annoyance. He didn't _need _to explain why. It shouldn't be possible from anyone to be happy about that stinky, ambitious, mask-wearing jerk! And no, he wasn't just biased because the Turk had technically owned him for most of his young life.

Scowling, he turned to focus on the TV. It gave him something else to focus on than the impending death of his mentality. Sadly though, the hospital didn't have anything interesting in the way of films. But he had to admit, watching episodes of this strange, strange show called Glee seemed to do a good job of getting his attention elsewhere.

The annoying blond nurse made an attempt to talk to him, but he promptly drowned her out at the TV cast started singing.

He could be pissed off as long as he wanted without being interrogated about it, couldn't he? If he weren't in a damned hospital, no one would even bother to think twice about his anger.

_'Damned Turkey showing up and coming to this freaking hospital why does my luck suck so bad jeez what the hell did I do to piss off the gods?'_ He fumed inside his head, ruffling the hair at the back of his neck. Maybe if he was lucky, Turkey's plane had crashed going across the Atlantic. No survivors. He smiled morbidly at the thought.

But alas, this last glimmer of hope was crushed beneath the heel of the nurse who stuck her head into the room and said simply,

"He's here."

Greece swore little storm clouds had formed over his head.

But, nonetheless, he pushed himself out of the chair and sauntered out the door, leaving the annoying blond nurse to turn off the television. He tried to push any thoughts that were overly homicidal to the back of his head. He'd save them for later. Preferably when there was less security.

Wandering into the commons room where all the other Nations were still gathered, he bit back an aggravated sigh at the sight of his archenemy, clad in his ridiculous clothing and still wearing his porcelain mask. Honestly, Greece preferred it that way; then he didn't have to see that man's creepy face.

"Mr. Adnan, I'm sorry, but we cannot permit you to wear that mask in here," Dr. Eticott said, apparently having been in the middle of a discussion with the Turkish psychiatrist who had come with Turkey, "It's hospital policy that you can't obscure your face."

"But I don' wanna take it off!" Turkey protested, holding the mask to his face, "Do you have any idea how hard it was to find one like this? I spent days just looking for it!"

"I'm very sorry, but you're going to have to take it off."

Greece wasn't sure when he had walked up to stand behind Dr. Eticott, but that's where he was when he uttered, "Don't."

Both the psychiatrist and the Nation in question moved to look at him now, obviously not noticing that the brunet was there at all. Turkey and Greece's eyes locked in a look of mutual dislike, although Turkey's was more bemusing. Behind the tiny slits his mask had for eyes, that is.

"Greece."

"Turkey."

You could cut the tension with a knife.

"I'm Italy!" Veneziano chimed from the back of the room, waving his hand in the air. They payed him no notice.

"Haven't seen you in a while, little Greece!" Turkey exclaimed, putting his annoying voice to its best use.

"Not long enough, if you ask me." Greece retorted, green eyes narrowing in disgust.

"Aww, no need to be like th-"

"-Okay, that's enough if this!" nurse Wilson interjected as she moved to stand in between the two men, not wanting a fight to break out. She narrowed her eyes at the two, before speaking, "Patient Greece. I can't believe you'd start a fight over nothing! I don't really care how much you dislike Patient Turkey, so if you would consent to behave, I'm sure thing will go much. Smoother." She bit out the last words with a warning tone.

"Yes..." Greece looked at his feet, still fuming.

"You've got a sharp tongue, lady." Turkey appraised, and Nurse Wilson assumed that he was smiling under his mask-the one he had yet to remove.

"I'm aware. Now, I believe you have a mask to take off." she glared pointedly at the man.

"But-"

"Do it." she enforced.

Sighing bitterly, Turkey raised his hands to his head, first removing the hat that rested on it, revealing the black fastener for his mask. Deftly, he untied the bind and lowered the mask off of his face, reluctantly handing the finely-crafted porcelain to the nurse. The Nations present all fell silent in awe of Turkey's not-often-seen face. Well, not quite in awe, but they fell silent nonetheless.

"This make ya happy?" he asked, glaring back through narrowed brown eyes.

Without his mask, it was easy to define Turkey as the oldest of the group of patients. His cheekbones were slightly hollowed, and his squared chin sported a bit of stubble, much like France. His hair was brown and slightly curly like Greece's, but shorter. He also did not seem impressed to be without his mask.

"Thank you," nurse Wilson said simply, tucking the mask away within the folds of her scrub, "I'll keep it safe for you."

Huffing, Turkey cast a brief glance to Greece, who made a gagging noise, and turned to look at the rest of his 'comrades'. Frowning at the looks of utter bewilderment on their faces. Oh, that's right. Greece and France were the only ones who had ever seen him devoid of his mask before.

"Oh my go-" America gaped.

"Ve~ See Romano, I _told _you he had a face!" Italy exclaimed with glee, tugging at his brother's sleeve. Romano made a choked noise, giving Turkey the dirtiest look he could muster.

"Che. Please, I'm surprised the fucker doesn't have _two._" Romano spat.

"Little South Italy," Turkey lilted, "It's been a while. Where's that beloved Spaniard of yours?"

"Go rot in hell." Romano said vehemently.

"_Fratello_! That's rude!" Italy gasped, moving closer to Turkey, "Don't be mad at him, please? He doesn't mean it!"

"_Chigi! _Like hell I di-" Turkey was a bit more preoccupied with backing away from the redhead than listening to Romano. He gave Italy a wary look.

"Y-you brat!" Turkey stuttered slightly, "Don't think I've forgotten what you did to me!"

Italy cocked his head cutely, eyes closed.

Leering distrustfully, Turkey continued along, passing by the dumbstruck America, England, who was trying to look unimpressed, France, who chuckled darkly. No doubt thinking about his naked Christmas escapades. China was staring. Just plain staring. Sweden seemed unimpressed, and Finland was looking on in mild awe. And... then there was some blond kid looking at the floor that Turkey honestly had no clue who he was.

"Canada..." the boy muttered, obviously sensing the older man's forgetfulness.

"Oh." still didn't ring any bells.

There was an awkward silence as the two unacquainted Nations looked at each other. Interrupted only briefly by Romano's angry huffs or Greece's feet tapping against the linoleum.

"Ahem," nurse Wilson cleared her throat, drawing attention to her. She was alone in the room with them now, save for her usual accompaniment of nurses, "As much fun as you seem to be having, you're needed in the cafeteria for dinner. I don't think the cook will appreciate his food getting cold."

"Ve~ Is it pasta?" Italy asked hopefully. (Turkey glared at him)

"Sorry Italy. Perhaps I could suggest it for tomorrow," she smiled apologetically, thin wrinkles appearing beneath her eyes.

"You would? Thank you!" he sang, dancing out of the room ahead of the rest.

The rest followed behind the cheerful Italian, Turkey uncertainly lingering near the back of the group, while Greece and Romano trailed angrily after him.

Once the last patient was out the door, Nurse Wilson sighed. Just what they needed; another troublemaker. Turkey also seemed to have his fair share of enemies as well. Like France... well, maybe not _quite _as bad as France. The Turkish man didn't seem to have such lecherous tendencies. Plus, he didn't seem to be all that familiar with Matthew, even after hearing his name...no. She stopped herself. Canada was _not _his name. His only name was Matthew. Canada was who he thought he was.

Walking back over to the chair she had set her clipboard on, she read over the profile she's been handed by the psychiatrist from Ankara.

**Sadiq Adnan, "Turkey"**

**Age: **28

**Gender: **Male

**Height: **5'8"

**Birthday: **October 29th

**Hair Color: **Brown

**Eye Color: **Brown

His profile made him seem so normal they all did. Smiling fondly, she took up her pen and added, in neat cursive at the bottom of the page: _Keep away from Greece and the Italies._

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Nurse Wilson joined her patients a few minutes later, just as they had all received their food and were sitting down to eat. Thankfully, Turkey had opted to sit with France and Canada at a separate table from the rest. There were too many of them to fit at one table now.

"Ve~? We're having mashed potatoes with chicken?" Italy asked, "Germany always made me eat potatoes! They taste alright but..."

"Yeah yeah, 'but it's not pasta!'" America laughed, shoveling half of his chicken into his mouth, "Whfaahh? Ihmn hnugggry!" he protested when England gave him a look.

"Stupid mask-wearing child molester..." Romano hissed under his breath, forgoing his food in favor of imagining daggers stabbing Turkey in the head. Or maybe Russia...yes. Definitely Russia stabbing him.

Greece was shoving small forkfuls of food into his mouth, each bite taken like he was ripping off Sadiq's head with his teeth and chewing it.

At the second table, Turkey was staring at his plate of mashed potatoes with longing, as if he was going to shove his face in it to atone for his lack of a mask. France was talking animatedly to his former colony, who laughed and nodded along with him.

"—_n'est-ce pas? Mais, ensuite, je-_" France broke off into hushed whispers, Canada's face turning slightly red as he giggled.

"_Serieusement?_" the bilingual Nation asked, distracted as his hand accidentally knocked his (plastic) fork off of the table, "_Merde._"

"Canada!" France seemed faux-appalled that his innocent Mattieu would curse. Canada flushed and hung his head.

"S-sorry, Papa..." he apologized, ignoring France's protests of, 'Speak French, it makes you sound cuter!'

Nurse Wilson smiled at the sight of the eleven men for once not completely at each others throats. It seemed that no matter what she did, there would always be one person that was just on the verge of murder. It made her happy to see socialization. To see them at least acting like sane, civil human beings.

Her smile waned. It was hard to believe that there could be so many young people in the world suffering from this disorder; or whatever it was. Also, how strange it was that they hardly acted like they had anything wrong with their psyches, for the most part, they were just like any normal human beings. They each had their ups and downs. Even Sweden and Finland ("_No, they're Berwald and Tino,"_ A shrinking piece of her mind corrected), whose relationship was obviously a little more than unstable, seemed to be like normal people. If it weren't for mild hallucinations like Matthew and Arthur had been having, and of course the usual dilemma of their identity disorder, they could be considered...normal.

Normal people with normal grudges and normal friendships. Much in the way that England treated America like a troublesome little child...

"Hm..." She paused, tucking a lock of brown hair behind her ear. _'Arthur does treat Alfred like a bothersome kid... and America was a British colony. I know that historical events seem like normal events from their perspective... was that the equivalent to America being his little brother?" _She had to admit, it did make sense, as strange as it was. _"And Lovino and his dislike for Sadiq. Greece too... I'm not sure why Heracles hates him. But didn't Italy mention that Turkey captured Romano a long time ago..?"_ The more she thought about it, the more it all worked out inside her head. Was the way they all acted toward each other based off of historical accuracy? I seemed that she would have some research to do that night.

"Excuse me..?" a voice came from beside her, jolting her out of her reverie. She turned to see Finla-_No, Tino-_ looking up at her. She smiled at the new patient.

"How can I help you?" she asked, fully facing him. The Finn stood just a tiny bit shorter than her.

"Um well, I was just wondering... what exactly do we do in this place? I know I haven't really been here for long but, are we going to have to do, maybe, counseling or something?"

Ms. Wilson thought for a moment. Well, after Group therapy turned out to be such a disaster, she doubted that the Doctors would schedule anything like that again soon. Perhaps there would be a few one-on-one sessions with Dr. Eticott himself, but other than that, she really didn't know. She was only a Nurse, she didn't get to properly diagnose or run therapies. Although, at the rate that new patients were showing up, they might be forced to postpone regular therapy even further and focus on relocating and accommodating patients.

"Well, Finland- you like it better when I call you Finland, right?" the blonde man nodded, "Right. Well, for the most part, we'll be involving you guys in arts for fun, and then outdoors activities. Nothing to make you feel too overwhelmed or uncomfortable. You could've asked any of the nurses around, you don't have to just ask me."

"Oh, okay. It's just that... I'm not very used to the people around here, and you're the one who's been around the most so I figured you're the one in charge. And Italy said you're really nice anyway." Finland replied, rubbing the back of his head. She laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, you tell Italy that he's really nice too. You don't have to feel unwelcome here, Finland, any time you want to talk, I'll be here."

"Sure! Oh and..." He laughed, "Which way's the bathroom?" He asked sheepishly.

"Down to the left. I'll get Angela to escort you there," She motioned a young nurse over, "Sorry, hospital policy. You'll get used to stuff like this soon enough."

"Thanks," Finland said as he followed the other nurse out of the room.

She nodded and turned back to the other patients. Most of them were finished eating or just about done. Romano had finished off about half of his meal, before pushing it away and continuing to glare at Turkey. Sweden was watching a mild dispute between America and China with a stoic face. England and Italy were still eating, England because he was actually bothering to be polite about it and Italy because he'd spent most of the time talking rather than eating.

France and Canada were once again chatting, while Turkey had managed to tear eye holes out of a napkin and stick it over his face as a replacement mask. It didn't take long before one of the nurses noticed and took it from him, leaving him disappointed.

"Finish up!" she called over the light chatter, "Once everyone's done, we're heading back to the commons room for an hour before turn-in."

Turkey immediately stood from his chair, heading over towards the door, looking back over his shoulder impatiently at the other Nations, a couple of which actually made a move to follow.

"C'mon! We don't have all day here," Turkey rolled his eyes at them, namely Greece and Romano, purposely acting like an ass.

"I'm gonna kill him," Greece and Romano seethed in unison.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Later that night, once all the patients had returned to their rooms for the night, Nurse Wilson slung her purse over her shoulder, grabbing her jacket and heading out of the nurses' office and down the hall. She wanted to make a quick stop at Dr. Eticott's office before she went home for the night, just to inform him on what Feliciano had told her earlier that day.

Knocking once, she pushed the polished wood door open, stepping inside. The brunet man was sitting behind his desk, sorting through an assortment of papers, and organizing them into folders. No doubt they were various bits of information on the pasts of the patients.

"Doctor?" She asked, closing the door behind her.

"Yes, yes. Ms. Wilson, what can I help you with?" He asked, taking off his rimless glasses to massage the bridge of his nose.

"I thought you might like to see these," She said, handing him the sheet with the notes she had made from what Italy had told her earlier, "I spoke to Patient Italy, Feliciano, about some other 'nations' I'd heard him talking about. I collected a bit of information on possible patients; two from Germany and one from Spain, along with passing mentions of one from Japan and another from Austria."

He nodded as he took the paper, scanning over it and sighing, "They just seem to keep coming and coming..."

"Sir, you look like you've had a long day. Did you get another call from somewhere?" Nurse Wilson asked, noting the dark bags under her employer's eyes.

He shook his head, "No, but it's been a huge headache trying to keep the media out of this. You know how the press always wants a nice, juicy story to feed people. I've spoken to the heads of all the Psych Hospitals we've come into contact with so far, and we've all agreed to keep the media in the dark about what's going on, at least until we get more information. The last thing we need is the general public worried about some possible disease and cameras constantly poking around corners."

"So we're trying to keep this entire case low-key until we have something to tell the public that won't spark any worry?"

"Exactly." He confirmed, resetting his glasses on his face and handing the paper back to her, "It hasn't been easy though, they're already on my case about the number of workers on leave. I had to reduce hospital staff so much because we transferred out all the patients from each wing, they're sensing something's amiss and keep snooping around."

She chewed on her bottom lip. If the press found out about the patients, it could even inspire people claiming to be a Nation who really weren't. It would be problematic no matter which way you looked at it.

"Well, I can assure you that nothing they hear will be coming from my mouth." She said, placing the sheet back into a notebook and moving back towards the door.

"Thank you. The less press we attract, the better."

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Italy blinked his eyes in the darkness. He was in his own bed tonight, not wanting a repeat of that morning. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle seeing his brother taken away like that again. He was also fully dressed, as per the hospital rules. The pajamas that the hospital provided weren't uncomfortable, but he still preferred to sleep naked if he could.

It wasn't either of these things that kept the enthusiastic Italian awake that night. It was the noises. At first he couldn't make out what they were, but as they continues and grew louder, more strained, he recognized the sobbing noises.

Romano was crying.

Italy frowned worriedly, but didn't say anything. Why was Romano crying? Well, sure, it wasn't like it didn't happen a lot, but not like this. Normally Romano cried when he got mad, or when he was embarrassed or thought that no one liked him. He never cried in the night. And he certainly never actually _sobbed_.

"Romano...are you alright?" He asked, cutting through the muffled sobs. The older Italian quieted, trying to further stifle himself.

"G-go to bed, Feliciano..." He bit out. Italy remained silent. Romano hardly ever called him by his human name. Only when he was really upset.

Italy thought he knew why. He wasn't as dumb as everyone thought he was. Innocent though he may be, he wasn't completely oblivious, and he knew that seeing Turkey had only made his brother think about the past, which meant Spain. He knew that Turkey had tried to capture his brother back then, and that Spain had come to his rescue. Romano told him everything that happened to him whenever Austria and Spain let them see each other.

Romano didn't have any friends other than himself and Spain. Italy knew this. Italy also knew that his brother could barely function without Spain there with him. They were always together. And now with Turkey there... Italy was beginning to fear that his brother would spend more nights in tears.

"Spain... you'd better get here soon. My brother needs you..." Italy whispered, quietly enough that he knew Romano couldn't hear him.

He listened to Romano until the elder drifted off to sleep, worrying too much to sleep until he knew that the other would be okay. When South Italy's breathing finally evened out and deepened, the Northern half breathed a sigh of relief, closing his eyes and letting himself drift off to sleep as well.

**-xo-ox-ox-xo-xo-xo-**

**Translations:**

**"—**_**n'est-ce pas? Mais, ensuite, je-**_**" = "-isn't it? But, then, I-"**

**"**_**Serieusement?**_**" = "Seriously?"**

**"**_**Merde.**_**" = "Shit."**


	9. Huit: Perdu et Trouvé, Partie Un

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

******_Folie à Plusiers_**

Huit: Perdu et Trouvé, Partie Un

_Eight: Lost and Found, Part One_

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

The next morning, Greece and Romano came to a mutual agreement.

Turkey had to die.

Not only had the eccentric man come into the cafeteria room earlier that morning with a ripped-off piece of his shirt serving as a makeshift mask (leaving a rather large, rather obvious hole in the torso of the shirt), but he even had the audacity to treat the two opposing Nations as though they were friends. He did it just to piss them off, they both _knew_ it. There was no other explanation in the eyes of the other two Mediterranean Nations.

It was only after this, in the bustling atmosphere of the commons room, that South Italy and Greece formed their makeshift pact. Romano literally stomping his way over to the now well-used couch that Greece was leaning off the edge of. Both Nations gave deep breaths of exasperation, both sets of eyes glaring holes in the pristine white ceiling. It was mocking them, damn it! Looking down on them like that!

"Oh dear, what _ever _seems to be the matter?" Turkey asked as he idled over, leaning over the back of the couch close to Romano and Greece. Greece's eyebrow twitched and Romano's face began steadily growing redder in anger.

"Fuck off, asswipe." Romano growled, resisting the urge to punch the bearded man square in the jaw. He'd sure as hell feel a whole lot better if he did, but he'd sort-of promised Nurse Wilson that he would try to stay out of trouble, and the thought of being put in solitary again, shockingly, wasn't very appealing. Fear was pretty much the only thing keeping his anger in check at the moment.

"Watch your language, young'un, you don't want Mommy over there to slap your wrists, do ya?" Turkey chided, a mischievous glint in his deep brown eyes. He gestured at Nurse Wilson over his shoulder. Greece inwardly groaned that the hospital staff had taken away his second attempt at a mask. He hated seeing that bastard's face.

"Are you just trying to piss us off?" Greece asked in a monotone, glaring mildly at the offending man. He merely chuckled in response.

"What would ever give you such an idea, Greece? So rude, it's hard to believe that you were such a cute kid," he laughed when Greece gave a small growl, "Vicious, aren't cha? Careful now, don't want people getting dirty thoughts from little noises like that! However..." he leaned further over the couch, so that his head was right between Greece and Romano, "I wouldn't mind a bit of_ action _in this place, and since the little Italian here is practically _helpless_ without that self-proclaimed Country of Passion here, I think I might..."

That was the last straw for Romano, who stood up from the couch, fist balled and raised level to Turkey's smug face. His fear of isolation being completely overridden by his anger and embarrassment. Greece stood up as well, knowing that, more than likely, Turkey had meant to include him in whatever his filthy mind had been thinking up.

"You dirty old Turk!" Romano grabbed Turkey by the collar of his shirt, yanking the man down to eye level and bringing his fist back to strike.

"ROMANO!" Both Veneziano and Nurse Wilson yelled across the room at the same time. Romano's grip on Turkey instantly went limp at the obvious danger of getting sedated again. That couldn't be allowed to happen. Never again. Never again.

"Romano, don't be like that, you'll get taken again!" Italy cried, running to his elder brother and wrapping his arms around him in a hug. Neither of them noticed Turkey backing up a few steps from the auburn-haired Italian.

"Get off me!" Romano protested, trying, to no avail, to escape from Italy's iron grip.

"Romano..." Both Italies turned with a certain amount of apprehension to Nurse Wilson, standing apart from the small group of Nations (as the other seven were all watching avidly from across the room). She fixed a stern look at the older Italian, nodding once at him, "Better."

"Wha?" Turkey protested, "Didn't ya see him? He was gonna slug me!"

"But," she interjected, "He didn't. And, Sadiq," The other Nations fell even more silent at the use of Turkey's name, "I'm aware that you were enticing him to do so. I won't let any patients go around purposely egging others on. And it seems that that's all you've been doing since you arrived yesterday. As it is, a few hours in solitary might be a start to fixing this problem."

Turkey opened his mouth to protest further, but was silenced by her hand raising. It was obvious to him that she was the top person in the room, he was going to have to follow her rule, like it or not. Even though she was not a Nation, there was nothing he could possibly do that wouldn't result in him getting conked out, or dragged away.

"Don't even," she warned, "Angela, I'd appreciate it if you could escort Mr. Adnan to the solitary wing," the same nurse that helped Finland yesterday stepped out of the office entrance, took Turkey lightly by the elbow, and led him out of the room.

A pregnant pause engulfed the room. Nurse Wilson looked over the patients, and then to Romano alone, looking uncomfortable in the still unrelenting embrace of his brother.

"Thank you." she said.

"Huh?" Romano uttered, frowning, "What'd I do? I was still gonna hit him."

"And yet you stopped when you came to your senses. It's a good start to controlling your anger. Once you start doing it on your own, and not out of fear, you'll be a much happier person," she brushed some of her hair out of her face, "I'll see to it that Turkey gets a proper lecture."

A few of the Nations to the back of the room frowned in skepticism. It was a long shot to ever hope for Romano of all people to become less violent and even _happier._ Sure, they realized that Nurse Wilson was only doing her job and she was only doing anything for the best, but honestly, Romano was Romano for his personality if nothing else. A few centuries of attitude simply wasn't going to be erased, even with fear.

"Ve~ Grazie, Oneechan!" Italy chimed, with his odd mixture of Italian and Japanese. Nurse Wilson smiled and returned across the room to her seat. With a happy cry, Italy released his brother from his clutches, running back across the room to continue his activity with the other Nations. Which appeared to be...a game of Pictionary. Needless to say, Italy's team was winning.

Suddenly exhausted, Romano flopped back onto the couch, making the springs squeak in their usual protest. Greece followed soon after, scratching at his long hair in obvious irritation.

"I hate him." the Greek stated simply, eyebrows furrowing.

"Agreed." Romano groaned, slamming his head intentionally into the back of the couch, "If he were to die in his sleep tonight, I'd never be happier." he sighed whimsically, mulling the morbidly appealing thought over in his head.

"Hmmm..." Greece trailed off on thought, tilting his head so that he was looking at Romano, "It could happen."

"What?" Romano blinked, his thoughts interrupted, "Oh, right. I guess."

"Let's do it."

"Do what?"

"Kill him." Greece replied, dead serious. Romano faulted.

"What? We're in a freaking _psychiatric hospital, _and you're talking about ganking Turkey? Maybe if this was the outside world, and people knew who we are again, but really? I'm not getting sedated by those bitches again. Forget it." Romano snorted.

"Not in so many words. Just little things. Keep him on his toes," Greece said, "I hate the guy, you hate the guy, the guy is a dick, and we deserve some payback as reparations." His usually tired and heavily lidded eyes were wide and full of determination as he spoke.

Romano nodded slowly, the plan coming together in his mind. Just small, mean-hearted pranks on Turkey, nothing big enough to actually kill him. The nurses wouldn't shoot them for that would they? It could work.

"And so I, Greece, offer a pact against Turkey to you," the brunet Nation continued, extending his hand, "To unite against a common foe."

Romano smirked, "I, Italy Romano, accept this pact." and shook the other Nation's offered hand.

The hospital suddenly wasn't such a safe place anymore.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Italy glanced worriedly from the Pictionary board to his brother, relieved to see that he was talking calmly with Greece. The worry for his brother had only been increasing since last night, and Turkey was just being even more difficult for Romano to deal with. At least Romano had Greece to help share the brunt of Turkey's influence, and the lethargic man had decades more experience in putting up with Turkey than Romano.

In his mind's eye, what his brother really needed was for Spain to be there. Even if Romano didn't think so, Italy could tell. Spain would make everything all better for his dear brother. All he had to do was wait. But...what if Romano just acted as mean as he always did to Spain when he gets there? Then Romano would just be the same as he always was. Italy chewed on his bottom lip in worry.

"Hey, Italy! You in there?" America snapped his fingers an inch away from his nose, startling him out of his reverie.

"Ve? Yeah, I'm here! What's going on?" he asked brightly, fidgeting in his chair.

"It's our turn, aru," China replied, "You're taking the card, aru."

"Oh, okay!" he exclaimed, slipping a card out of the pile and reading it. It said, _'Math'_ on it. He hummed. He wasn't good at math, Germany had told him that many times. Oh well! He took the piece of paper and stated scribbling down some numbers and a few people who his mind's eye thought looked like they were 'math-people'.

"Oh, Oh! I know this!" America proclaimed, scrutinizing the picture, "Uhhh, is it homework?"

"Nuh-uh!" Italy replied, and drew a book.

"School?"

"Nope!"

"Oh good, that'd be an absolutely horr'ble thing to draw! I mean-"

"Alfred." Canada said shortly from the other side of the table. His brother trailed off, looking unappreciated because no one wanted to listen ho his opinion of school.

"Math?" China asked. Italy grinned.

"Yep!"

"Awww, no fair! How come China can always guess the right one?" America whined, hanging his head so that his glasses nearly slid off his nose.

"Well, maybe it's because you're an insufferable buffoon?" England asked from a nearby reclining chair. He'd blatantly refused to play the game when the other six had offered him a spot.

"What? Say that to my face, mom!" America shouted back, pouting.

"I'm not your bloody mother!"

The shouting escalated, but Italy somehow managed to drown it out with his own worries about Romano. Veneziano never could stand to see anyone sad, so he always tried to cheer them up whenever he could. But this time, he knew he couldn't. Romano would just push him away. His brother never let anyone comfort him unless he was already in the middle of a breakdown.

A frown made its way over the Italian's delicate features. He didn't know how he could help his sibling. If Germany were there, he'd be able to tell him, but then Romano would just get mad because he asked Germany for advice. He felt utterly useless. Even worse than during the Second World War.

"Italy, are you sure you're well?" France asked, studying the boy with a concerned face. Italy blinked, nodding.

"Si, France-nii, I'm good!" Italy let his casual smile fall into place. Lately, it had been getting harder and harder to wear his dazzling smile. It's not the fact that he was unhappy, in fact, he was quite content to be living in the hospital ward. They kept him fed and let him play...sure, they were a little lacking in cute girls, as most of the nurses working at MacFarlane's were quite a bit older than him (physically speaking), but it wasn't a bad place.

He didn't mind the company he had either. The other Nations that had been brought to the United States of America were all great people. Well, except maybe Turkey, but then again, neither of the Italy halves had gotten along with him since the 900's. He liked them all well enough, but he wasn't exceptionally close to any of them. Not even his own brother, since they had been occupied separately for so long.

He missed Germany. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew that he'd become dependent on Germany after the century they'd spent together. Even the other Nations probably thought that it was strange to see the small redhead without his giant friend. He was...lonely. None of the others would ever have the patience to put up with his antics, and truth be told, he was scared of England and Sweden. He didn't have Germany there to protect him.

Both of the Italy brothers were hopelessly codependent, and sooner or later, one of them was going to break.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Sweden stared at the motley assortment of Nations that had been assembled. Including himself, there were two Nordics, the North American siblings, four Mediterraneans, one Asian, and two European Nations. It was hardly a surprise to him that so much awkwardness and arguing was going on, with so many social and cultural differences mixed in one place.

Perhaps it was too soon yet for him to get a good impression of the place they were staying in, but he didn't like it. He didn't like being watched like a mouse being stalked by a hawk all hours of the day. He didn't like having to follow a predetermined schedule day in and day out, nor did he see any reason why he was stuck in this place. He wasn't one to make hasty decisions, but he wasn't particularly fond of any of the other Nations with him either, other than Finland, of course.

The small Finnish boy sat next to him, smiling happily as he offered his guesses to the game of Pictionary. Sweden allowed a smile smile to grace his features, too small for anyone to notice unless you squinted, but there nonetheless. Sweden wasn't one to give out his trust easily, and as such, there was a very limited number of people whom he trusted at all. Finland was the foremost of them, followed by Sealand, and the Baltic trio.

It was rightfully so, since the man was his wife. It didn't matter how often Finland tried to deny it; Sweden was not one to be deterred. He also knew that somewhere deep inside, Finland loved him just as much.

"Su-san?" Finland's light voice broke him of his thoughts.

"Hm?"

"It's your turn," Finland explained, raising an eyebrow, "Pick a card!"

"R'ght." he reached for one of the small cards, taking a small bit of comfort in the fact that Finland was sitting next to him. As long as he had Finland, maybe staying in the hospital wouldn't be so bad.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

An hour and a half later, Turkey was allowed to join the other Nations again, only after he grudgingly agreed to leave Greece and Romano alone. Strangely, he didn't get any curses or threats thrown at him, like he expected. He didn't even get glared at.

Romano and Greece exchanged knowing smirks, watching Turkey out of the corners of their eyes. It wouldn't start today, but they were going to get their revenge.

"Heck, is there _anything _to do in this place?" Turkey complained, scratching absently at his small beard, "Other than boring games?"

"Not really!" America answered, kicking his feet up over the side of the chair he sat in, "Apparently they ain't gonna do much with us until Nations stop popping up. There's-" he was cut off by a sharp smack to the head, courtesy of England.

"'Ain't?' What the bloody fuck is that supposed to mean? By George, America, learn your own language!"

"I make my own language, Iggy! It's much awesomer than your stuffy old English!" America retorted, shoving the smaller blond away, "_Anyway, _like I was saying before Iggy had to shove his nose into it. They can't do much until they figure out what's going on. You know what? I actually wonder that myself! What the hell is going on here?" He mused, "I mean, I don't remember much past a month ago, and no one knows who I am!"

"Tell me 'bout it." Turkey agreed, "Our bosses obviously aren't worried. Or they don't remember us either. Sucks ta be us, don'it?"

"Bingo. So, we're basically locked here for now. We're not killing each other; that'd be completely unheroic, and we're not completely cracked either, so I don't think they know what to do with us. So we-"

This time, America was cut off by clacking noises scurrying down the hallway. Standing from his chair, he and Turkey peered around a few of the other Nations to get a better look out to the hallway.

"What is that noise?" France asked from his spot in front of America.

"Hell if I know." England replied.

The frantic clacking was drawing closer, accompanied by yips and yelps growing louder and louder with each passing second. Finland's eyes lit up at the sound, and he ran toward the entrance just as a white blur zoomed through the doorway and into his arms.

"Hanatamago!" Finland exclaimed happily. The small dog barked excitedly, licking its owner's face.

"Ve~! A puppy!" Italy cooed, running over to pet Hanatamago. The dog's tongue lolled out of its mouth as it panted, perking its ears up as the other Nations crowded around it.

"Look, Su-san! Hanatamago found me!" Finland laughed as he scratched his dog behind the ears.

"Ye'h, looks l'ke she d'd." Sweden bent over to look at the dog, and ended up getting a wet tongue dragged along the lens of his glasses. Finland giggled as Sweden wiped the slobber off with the cuff of his sleeve.

"She's so cute!" Italy cried, petting Hanatamago's short white fur, "How do you think she found you?"

Finland shrugged, letting the dog jump out of his lap and run around to sniff the other Nations, "She's a smart girl."

"Aww, what an adorable puppy," Canada remarked as he lowered Kumajirou to the ground to meet Hanatamago, "Look, Kumashigi, now you have someone to play with, eh!"

Kumajirou sniffed the smaller dog, wrinkling up his nose when the aforementioned licked his face, "What is her name?" he asked, looking back up at Canada as he sat on his haunches.

"Hanatamago," Canada replied, smiling, "You can play with her."

Kumajirou looked back to the dog, who was bouncing excitedly in front of him. With a small, "Okay." The polar bear took off behind the white dog, playing a game of tag.

"You've got a really loyal dog, Finland, aru." China said appreciatively, watching the animals play on the floor.

"Isn't she great?" Finland beamed.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

From her spot on the other side of the room, all Nurse Wilson could see was the patients crowding around in a large group, obviously excited about some thing or another. She couldn't see exactly what was going on, but she knew that whatever they were gathering around, whatever they were so excited about, it wasn't there. Just when everyone had been acting so normal, they all had another hallucination.

"Ve~! Oneechan! Didja see Finland's puppy?" Italy called from across the room, bouncing about like a child. She looked at him. He was smiling so wide, his eyes were nearly closed. The poor boy didn't even realize that he was delusional. She felt a wave of sympathy wash over her, for the young men in the room. They functioned well enough like regular human beings, but they didn't know that the persona they'd adapted were fake. They didn't know that they were remembering false lives.

She smiled, though it was a little forced due to her worry, "Of course. It was very cute."

Italy giggled childishly, running off to talk to France about something. Nurse Wilson sighed, grabbing her notes and pen. She hadn't had to write down anything like this for a while. Was it naive of her to hope that she wouldn't have to again?

_At 10:49 on June 28th, the entire group of patients experienced a hallucination. From what I've heard, it appeared to be a dog, belonging to patient "Finland". The fact that each patient was included in the hallucination makes it similar to the idea of patient "Canada" carrying around an imaginary polar bear, but sets it apart from patient "England"'s hallucinations of mythical creatures, because it appears that he is the only one with that hallucination._

She set the pen down atop the paper, staring down at the paragraph where she'd been dissecting the patients actions like a dead frog. Did it make her foolish to feel guilty about being so heartless?

"Louisa?" An elderly voice came from her left, and Nurse Wilson jumped at the unexpected sound of her first name. She turned around to see one of the senior nurses standing by the staff entrance.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Dr. Eticott called for you. He wants you to go to his office right now."

"Did he say why?"

"Another call. He thinks that this patient seems a bit more...extreme than the rest." the nurse replied, brushing a hand through her graying hair.

"Extreme? As in how?" she inquired, curious to hear about this new patient.

"He didn't mention all of the details, but he noted changes in speech patterns, personality, even in small things like food choices."

"Thank you." she stood up from her chair, tucking her notes under her arm and her pen behind her ear, and made her way out of the commons room through the main exit, "Can you stay here for a few minutes to keep an eye on things?" she asked the older woman.

"Of course dear."

She walked briskly out of the room, her 3-inch heels echoing loudly with each step. Her mind flooded with worrisome thoughts. What if something was seriously wrong with this new patient? What if they brought on changes in the states of the others? Was there really going to be a patient from every country in the world? More than one in some cases?

Reaching the head psychiatrist's office, she knocked three times on the door, and let herself in, not even waiting for an answer. Dr. Eticott was standing along one of the walls, admiring one of the pictures of his family hanging there.

"You wanted to speak to me about a new patient?" she asked, quick to get to the point.

"Yes, I do." he walked over to his computer, pressing the power button for the monitor.

"I heard that you thought they were a bit different from the rest?" she continued on.

"Yes, yes." He replied, "None of the others had such a drastic change, I assure you." the light from the computer screen cast a harsh glow on his hollowing face, "This patient began showing symptoms at the same time all the others did; about a month and a half ago. Let it suffice to say that his were much more...noticeable."

"How so?"

"Look at this." he said, bringing up a picture on the screen, "This is a picture of the patient that was taken approximately one week before the change." he explained. Nurse Wilson's eyes swept across the picture. "He is the one on the left."

"I don't see anything unusual." she remarked, beginning to wonder what he was getting at.

"Nor should you. This, Ms. Wilson," he called up a second picture overtop of the previous one, "Is a picture taken four days ago."

Her eyes widened in shock as she stared a the picture, disbelief plastering itself across her face.

"But, th-this is..."

**-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-**

**Review please? **


	10. Neuf: Perdu et Trouvé, Partie Deux

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

******_Folie à Plusiers_**

Neuf: Perdu et Trouvé, Partie Deux

_Nine: Lost and Found, Part Two_

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Her eyes widened in shock as she stared a the picture, disbelief plastering itself across her face.

"But, th-this is..."

"Shocking, isn't it?" Dr. Eticott asked, peering at her over the rim of his glasses.

"It doesn't even look like the same boy," she remarked, "It hardly looks like a boy at all."

It was true. The first picture that the psychiatrist had shown her was of a normal boy, in his late teens or early twenties, with chin-length blond hair that fell straight around his face, courageous green eyes on a boyish face. The second picture, however, was an entirely different person. That same blond hair was longer, and combed into place. The eyes were coy and mischievous, accentuated with black mascara. Pink nail polish painted the fingernails of the hand his head was resting on, matching with the corseted dress he was wearing.

"You can imagine his parent's concern at seeing their son changing into someone like that. It wasn't until after the cross-dressing began that they noticed the smaller things; speech changes, personality. And of course, the misconception of being a... _Nation._" the Doctor nodded to himself, looking back to the image on the computer screen.

"But none of the other patients experienced a gender identity crisis," she pointed out, "So-"

"I'm not sure it is one. From the reports I've been faxed, no one had ever indicated that this patient had ever believed himself to be female."

"Then..." she trailed off, "...Alright. Which one is this?" she asked, gesturing to the image.

Dr. Eticott's thin eyebrows furrowed, "Which one?"

"Where is he from? I was only wondering what this patient had begun referring to himself as."

"Ah. Well, Ms. Wilson, this is Feliks Łucasiewicz from Warsaw. He is patient 'Poland'. He won't be arriving until late tomorrow, so don't feel like there's too much pressure. Just make sure that the other patients know he's coming; we don't need any unsuspected outbursts." he said, exiting out of the pictures and shutting down the computer.

"Of course, Doctor. Oh, and just before I leave," she untucked her notes from under her arm, "The group of patients experienced a mass hallucination just earlier. I wrote down some notes that may be of use." she handed the sheet of paper to the Doctor, slipping out the door when he took it and began reading.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

America didn't like being left out of things. After all, he was the hero, wasn't he? And the hero should always be included in conversations! Or at least, that's what he liked to think. So when he noticed China, France, and England were having a heated conversation in the very back corner of the commons room, it was practically a second nature for him to grab his brother by the shoulder and drag him over to the other three Nations.

"Heyyyy guys!" he called as he approached, completely oblivious to England's sigh of exasperation, "What'cha doin'?"

"It's none of your business." England snorted, turning up his nose at the American.

"England, America and his...um, twin?" China thought for a minute, before correcting himself, "Brother, have as much right to listen as anyone else, aru. Fair treatment, aru."

"Oh, all right." the short blonde huffed, crossing his arm over his chest.

"S-so..." Canada began, looking up through his glasses, "What were you guys talking about?"

"_Mon cher enfant_, you youthful Nations needn't worry about what we think. We were simply discussing some rather... ah, 'ow do you say...troublesome issues?" France spoke, flinging his long hair over a shoulder.

"Well then, you should definitely tell me!" America protested, smiling widely, "I am the Hero, of course! I'll help you solve your problems!"

"_Non, non Am__é__rique!_ As I said, you don't need to-"

"Oh for fucks sake, if we've already decided to tell them, just go ahead and tell them! Don't beat around the bush, you bloody frog." England interrupted, not even bothering to look at the Frenchman.

"'Beat around the bush'? My my, _Angleterre_, you may prove to be more of a closet kink than _Allemagne_, non?" Francis winked, quirking an eyebrow suggestively. England visibly twitched. He gave an indignant squawk, screeching at France.

China, not wanting to listen to yet another argument between France and England, stepped in to fill their places, "Well, haven't you two noticed that nothing happening in the world seems to be affecting us, aru? Global warming, economic recession, wars...aru, but none of us have gotten so much as a cold or aches. I am correct, aru ka?"

"Well yeah, but Heroes don't get sic-" America began to exclaim, but was cut off by an elbow jabbing into his side.

"No, we haven't felt anything, sorry eh..." Canada finished for his brother, "What do you think that's about?"

"That's what we were talking about, aru. Well, at least, that's what we were _trying_ to talk about, aru. But you know France and England; they're always at each other's throats for one reason or another, aru. Honestly, you westerners..." China sighed, staring in exasperation over his shoulder at the two aforementioned Nations, who were currently engaged in a verbal war. He was shocked at some of the unfamiliar curses that came flying out of their mouths.

"So..." America stuck his tongue out as he thought, "Does that mean that we ain't connected to our citizens anymore? I mean, that makes absolutely _zero_ sense, y'know? And how the hell has any sort of order been kept without us around?"

"T-that's what I was wondering...I mean, it's not like it's impossible to run our countries without us, but there's never been a nationless country before, has there?" Canada asked, glancing worriedly from America to China, "And all the countries that've been dissolved, died off as a result. 'C-cause the only reason Prussia ever survived was because he became part of Germany..."

"And it's obvious to see that none of us are dead, aru." China pointed out, "Therefore, all of our homes are still standing, aru. The only question is, _why_? We all know that there is a recession occurring right now, and yet none of us are sick, aru."

"Maybe it's not a very big recession," America suggested, "I mean, I doubt we're ever going to have another one as bad as the Depression, and I'm the only one who's even in his own land. Maybe...oh, I dunno! This is too confusing!"

"What if..." Canada trailed off, "I mean, if you think about it, maybe the nurses and doctors here are ri-"

"Don't you _dare_ say that, Mattie!" America shouted, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder, "Of _course_ we're Nations! I don't wanna hear any of that bullshit coming from ya. Don't let them trick you!"

"Yeah...bien sûr..."

"America's right, aru...amazingly...it wouldn't make any sense otherwise. We know who we are, we know who each other is, and besides, who else can have centuries worth of memories, aru?" China added, trying to reassure the younger Nation.

"Exactly! Don't let it get to you, Mattie! I'm the Hero; I'll protect you from the evil of those shrinks!" America proclaimed, wrapping his arms around Canada's waist and throwing the other blond over his shoulder.

"E-eh? A-Alfred, put me down, eh!" Canada's protests went unnoticed by the stronger sibling.

"Nuh-uh! Not until you stop being such a stick in the mud!" America laughed, spinning around in a circle.

"Eyaahhh!" Canada yelped as he was spun around, grabbing his glasses as they slid off of his nose, "Alfreeedddd, stooop!" It didn't stop the fact that he was beginning to laugh at his brother's antics.

"Say it, Matt!" America prompted, still spinning.

"O-okay, you win! You're the Hero, you'll protect me! Now put me _DOWN, eh_!" he pouted, pounding his fists lightly against America's back. America laughed.

"Damn straight!" he exclaimed, flipping Canada off of his shoulder, "Now, what are you?"

"Canada, eh..." the timid blonde replied, replacing his glasses on his face.

"And what am I?"

"The United States of America."

"And you know it! So stop being so quick to question yourself, got it?" America pressed, frowning childishly as he pulled Canada into a one-armed hug.

"Yeah." Canada nodded, smiling, "Thanks Al."

The heartwarming brotherly moment was broken, sadly, when England and France decided to rejoin the group. The two returnees looking a bit worse for wear, and obviously a bit flustered after bring told off by one of the nurses who had come to break up their argument.

"Wot in the 'ell's going on 'ere?" England asked, his cockney accent making itself prevalent to show his frustration.

"Nothing, Iggy! Just cheering up Canada here!" America grinned.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Don't call me 'Iggy'! Bloody hell America, I'll never be able to keep up with all these mickey names you come up with!" England griped, his eyebrows furrowing. Which did, indeed, make him look _very_ intimidating. America just laughed it off and turned to France, who had begun talking.

"So, I am to assume that _Chine_ has told you about our dilemma in full?" France asked, looking to Canada, who nodded.

"Yeah, he did."

"And I suppose there's nothing we can do about it, is there?" England asked, staring at everyone's troubled faces, "Not only are we away from our homes, but we're locked up in this loony bin. As far as I'm concerned, as long as nothing terrible has happened, we shouldn't worry too much about this. It'll only prove to be a distraction."

"How can you say that?" America interjected, blue eyes widening in shock, "England, this is huge! If we're not feeling anything, then it's pretty damn obvious that something's screwy!"

"And _what_, exactly, do you propose we do about it?"

"..." America looked down to study his shoes.

"That's what I thought." He nodded, "For now, let's keep this mum, got it? I'll ask Greece and Sweden about it a bit later, but I really don't think we need people like Italy and Romano worrying about this. If anything, they'd only make it worse."

As if on cue, a small scream came from across the room, and the one and only redhead Italian came tearing over toward the group, fleeing a frowning, very intimidating Sweden.

"_I-Inghilterra!_ Help meeeee!" he cried pathetically, diving behind the short British man for cover. England kicked his foot at the Italian.

"Bloody hell, get off of the floor!" he griped, moving away from Italy, who whimpered. Sweden, obviously sensing that Italy was hiding from him, turned away and stalked over towards the farthest corner, settling himself down there.

"What're ya doing?" America asked, peering down at Italy.

"A-ahh, I was playing with Finland, but I think I stepped on his foot or something, 'cause he yelped and then Sweden got up and came over and he looked really mad and he's _sooooooo_ scary!" Veneziano shot off his words rapid fire, pulling himself off of the ground and brushing off his pants.

"I don't think Sweden would hurt you, Italy..." Canada pointed out, looking at the man who was now sitting in a corner as Finland attempted to coax him out of it.

"Ve~...but he looks so mean! Almost as scary as Germany! And Germany can get _reeeaaallllyyy_ scary when he's mad!" Italy protested.

Across the room, Sweden's aura of depression increased tenfold.

"That's not very nice! That's like saying that Russia's the sweetest person in the world just because he smiles friendly!" America exclaimed. The group shuddered in unison at the mention of their unstable 'ally'. Now _that_ was one pile of crazy that they weren't missing _at all_.

"Yeah, but Sweden's just so...frowny!" Italy pouted, "He always looks mad! It's like he's staring at you and trying to figure out what way to eat you! He-" the Italian's continued list was cut off by a loud noise and a worried yell.

"Su-san!" Finland called from across the room as Sweden practically ran out of the door, his melancholy air following him out. The small Finn followed in close pursuit.

"Now lookit what you've done!" England sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Well, let's just hope that Finland manages to get him back inside, aru." China said. The other five Nations nodded in silent agreement.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

By the time Nurse Wilson had made her way back to the commons room, the atmosphere had certainly settled down a bit. Finland had managed to convince Sweden to rejoin the majority of the Nations after a few minutes of telling him that no one was really _that_ scared of him, and that they all enjoyed his company (which, for the most part, is a lie). Greece and Romano were still talking in hushed whispers on the couch, and she made a mental note to keep an eye on those two; it was clear that they were up to no good, especially after the incident with Sadiq earlier. England and Canada had sat down to play a game of chess, while France animatedly told a story to America, who howled with laughter. China appeared to be practicing a form of Tai Chi, attempting to drown out the noise of his companions.

Italy was sitting in the middle of the floor, assembling a small army of origami cranes. Although, they really couldn't be identified as _cranes_, per se, as they were crudely made and rumpled up around the edges.

Feeling uneasy at the sight of Feliciano being alone (as the bubbly boy was so often around the others), she approached him. He had cranes of all sizes, and was organizing them into groups in a seemingly random order.

"What are you doing?" she asked quietly, careful not to startle him. He looked up at her with his doe eyes wide. He looked different; a little more somber than when she'd left the room.

"Japan used to teach me how to fold all kind of origami," he began, wearing a small smile, "But I don't think I'm very good at it. Look; they turn out all wrong."

"I think they look wonderful." she told him, picking up a small white crane. Its wings were a bit crumpled around the edges, but it was otherwise fine.

"Ve~, thank you." he replied, taking the crane out of her hand and setting it beside two others; a large yellow one with a broken tail and a smaller red one with its neck bent out of shape. "Japan told me that all the time too, but everyone knows he's just too polite to hurt anybody's feelings."

"So what's with all the birds?" she asked, gazing at the assembly of paper animals. Italy picked up the three he had grouped together and showed them to her, pointing at each one in turn.

"It's Germany, me, and Japan." he stated, as if that explained everything, "I miss them so much, but it's okay because I know they'll be here soon! Remember, Germany always helps me out when I'm in a pinch! We pinkie swore on it!" he held the yellow crane close to his chest.

"But you know, Germany might now show up for a long time." Nurse Wilson pointed out. Italy paused, unblinking, before his regular grin was back in place.

"It's okay. He won't leave me. I'm just weak li'l Italy!"

"You say it like that's a good thing." she frowned slightly.

"I've always been weak," Italy said, "If it really bothered me, I wouldn't be the way I am! That's why Germany and Japan are my best friends; because they don't think I'm a worthless person. No one else really likes me 'cause they think that I'm so useless and pathetic."

"That's not true, Italy," Nurse Wilson's frown deepened, "If no one else here liked you, then they would be very shallow people. You're very kind, and energetic, and happy. It doesn't matter if you're not as strong as some of the others. Besides, I'm sure that there must be some others who are weaker then you?"

"Well...I suppose maybe Liechtenstein, and Ethiopia..." he trailed off, unsure.

"There you go!" she put a hand on his shoulder, "Besides, from what you tell me of Germany, he wouldn't have you as his best friend if he didn't like you. So you should keep a smile on." she stood, smoothing out the creases in her scrub, "Don't worry. Whenever you're feeling lonely, just come talk to me or one of the other nurses; we'd love to help. It's why we're here."

She stood up and walked away, and Italy kept his gaze on her retreating back. She sure was nice, offering him words like that, but that was the problem; they were just words. He needed something more solid. More concrete. No one noticed, but lately he'd been _always_ feeling lonely. He tore his eyes away from the white of Nurse Wilson's uniform to stare at Lovino on the couch by Greece. He was hurting, too. Oh, he might try to hide it, but Italy could tell. After all, they were the same Nation. It didn't matter how vehemently his brother denied his loneliness; it was there.

But neither of them were ready to crack just yet. Italy found safety through a happy mask, and Romano through a vile temper. Their walls were strong and well in place, and it was a race against time to see who would break first.

Italy had a feeling it would be him.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

The announcement was made during lunch, when all of the Nations, including the recently released Turkey, were gathered together. As usual, Nurse Wilson stood at the front of the room, her clipboard tucked away under her arm.

"Well, I'm sure that by now you all have a pretty good idea of what I'm going to say," she began, looking over the group, "So I figure I might as well just say it: The next patient will be arriving in the later parts of tomorrow. I assume you're all familiar with Feliks Łucasiewicz?" A few exasperated groans, facepalms, and an excited noise from Italy was her reply, "Good."

"Ve~! So Poland's coming?" Italy asked happily, pleased that one of his closer friends was finally on their way.

"Yes. I don't know all the details, but he'll definitely be here sometime after supper tomorrow."

Immediately chatter broke out among the patients, whether it was out of excitement or pure dread of what was to come the next day, it didn't matter. France and England began reminiscing about their attempts to get Poland to better his defenses before the war, while Italy tittered on gleefully about the time they had catapulted themselves into Spain's yard.

The only two who were off topic in the midst of the noise were Greece and Romano, who had instantly set about putting their first plan of action against Turkey into effect. The two brunets whispered hurriedly to each other, hunched over the table so that none of the nurses could see their mouths moving.

"You get the idea?" Romano whispered, shifting his eyes to watch the nurses that stood around the room; there was only two today, not including Ms. Wilson.

"Got it." Greece nodded, giving a pointed glare to Turkey, who was once again sitting at a separate table from the scheming Nations.

"Wonderful. Make a scene."

Slowly, Greece pushed himself up from the table, yawning. With all the grace of a drunken hippo, he dragged his feet over to the exit door, right by where Nurse Wilson was standing. He blinked a few times, green eyes clouded and hazy. The nurses noticed him, and made their way over, in case something was the matter.

"Gree-Heracles," Nurse Wilson corrected herself, eying the other Nurses around her, "Is something the matter?"

"The...matter?" Greece repeated, rolling the words over in his mouth like he wasn't quite sure how they were supposed to work, "No...in fact I think I-"

His sentence was cut off as he promptly fell to the ground, breathing deeply. Next, two things happened. One, the nurses gasped in surprise, all bending down to see if the man was alright. Second, the other Nations stood from their chairs, just as oblivious to what was going on.

"Whoa man, Greece, you okay?" America asked, all but leaping out of his chair as he ran to the side of his fallen friend.

"What the hell...?" England muttered, as he too stood. Soon, it was a chorus of scraping chairs and worried exclamations as all of the Nations rose from their seats to see what had happened. Even Turkey got up to look, which was exactly what Romano was waiting for.

"What happened?" he feigned shock, leaping over the chair next to Turkey, pulling his arms up to give himself better momentum and _accidentally_ planting his elbow right in Turkey's uncovered face. The older Nation stumbled back with a shout as he clutched his bleeding nose, tripping over a conveniently placed chair and landing with an _oof_ on the edge of a table, causing the entire thing to collapse, plates of food and drinks being launched into the air before landing (quite comically) right on his head.

"Aw, gorrammit!" Turkey swore, hand still cupped under his nose to catch the falling blood. The nurses attentions were immediately diverted from the motionless Greece to Turkey, the previous commotion preventing them from seeing Romano's well-executed assault.

"Mr. Sadiq, are you alright?" One of the nurses asked, offering down a hand to the fallen man, who took it with his non-bloody one.

"Yeah, m'fine...fecking hell was that all about?" Turkey asked no one in particular as he stood, taking a napkin the other nurse handed him and shoving the end up his nostrils. None of the nurses said anything, as neither of them were exactly sure what had happened. Eventually though, one of the nurses had offered to escort Turkey to wash the blood and food off of him and get a fresh set of clothes, and the atmosphere in the room settled back to normal.

"Oh, but what about..." Nurse Wilson trailed off, spinning around to the spot where Greece had fallen to find him...not there. Brows furrowing, she scanned the room, to find the lethargic man back in his chair beside Romano, as though nothing had happened. The only ghost of a foreign emotion that played on his face was the slightly self satisfied grin that tugged at his lips.

A suspicious frown finding its way onto her face, she suddenly had the inkling that this 'accident', hadn't been so much of an accident at all. But a notion was only a notion and, in the end, she had no proof. Nonetheless, a watchful eye she'd have to keep on those two...

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"What was that all about?" Canada asked his brother, who was idly cleaning the lenses of his glasses.

"What was what about?" America fired back, only half paying attention. Canada snorted, reaching a hand out and giving America a light shove to get his attention, almost knocking the older sibling out of his recliner.

"That thing earlier today! Before lunch with England!" Canada persisted, legs folded beneath him on his chair, "When we were talking about _you know what_."

Currently the brothers were alone, curled up in armchairs, in the same little room Greece had confined himself to before Turkey's arrival. Lunch had already come to its finale, and supper had also come and gone. All of the other Nations were either in their rooms, or in the commons room, doing god knows what. There was no nurse actually inside the room with Canada and America, though one was likely right outside the door, ready to barge in at a moment's notice. The surveillance cameras positioned in the corners of the room worked just as well, they supposed.

"What're you taking about, Mattie?" America asked, placing his glasses back on his face. His clear blue eyes were cut across by his eyebrows as he gave the younger a questioning look.

Canada sighed, "You barely even tried to argue with him at all! Gave up, dare I say it. That's not the Alfred I know, so spill it; what's up, eh?"

America paused, scratching at his ear, "Nothing's up. Just didn't really feel like arguing, y'know?"

"That's bull, and you know it." Canada frowned, "So either you tell me what's up, or I tell Papa exactly _what_ you did during that St. Pattie's party once they broke out the Guinness."

America paled, "O-oh man, you wouldn't!"

"I _would_."

"I...It's kinda awkward to talk about it, 'specially to my own bro. Not that I don't trust ya or anything, Mattie, it's just..." America gulped, looking pointedly away from his brother.

"Just what?" Canada pressed, eager to know what was pressing on America's mind.

"I..." America was beginning to turn red around the ears.

"You..?"

"I think I like him, Matt."

Now it was Canada's turn to be confused, and a fair bit shocked. America...had a crush on England? Since when? More importantly, why hadn't he noticed this?

"You like...England?" he exclaimed incredulously, blinking a few times.

"Yes! Let the whole freakin' hospital hear you, why don't ya? Keep it down!" America whispered, leaning over towards Canada to make sure that no one else would be able to hear from the hall or the cameras, "I'm really screwed, aren't I?"

"No...I mean, I'm just kinda shocked. It's not everyday your brother tells you he's in love with his father-figure, eh?" Canada replied, keeping his voice hushed.

America shuddered, "_Please_ don't say it like that. That's _gross_. Besides, it's not like we're actually related, right? He found me, so we're not blood related. Jesus, Matt, I'm freaking out about this enough without you making it sound so...ugh!"

"Sorry," he muttered, running a hand through his wavy hair, "So, what are you planning to do, Alfred?" Usually, it would be Alfred helping Matthew out of dilemmas, not the other way around. He felt awkward, and not quite knowing what his brother needed to hear. But he still felt a bit indebted to America, for helping him out earlier.

"I don't know, Mattie, I really don't..." America sighed, "This would be so much easier if it weren't _England_ of all people. He'd probably just laugh at me and call me an immature git, or something..."

"Well, maybe he doesn't need the straightforward approach," Canada suggested, "Try smaller things than just telling him your feelings. Drop little hints here and there; make _him_ want _you_ before you confess, eh? That way you both get what you want, without anything too awkward happening. You have to make him desire you."

America blinked. "Mattie...?"

"Yes?"

A small grin worked its way across America's face, "You've spent _way_ too much time around France! You devious little genius! From now on, you're totally my sidekick in operation: make Iggy lovestruck!" he jumped up from his chair, grabbing his sibling in a bone-crushing hug.

"S-sidekick?" Canada asked, the air being squeezed from him, "More like 'accomplice', e-eh...?"

"Please, Mattie! That sounds way too evil! I'm the HERO, remember?" America laughed, setting the younger man back on his feet.

"Of course, Al."

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

The remainder of the time passed like oil on water. Morale was relatively high, with Italy excited for the coming arrival of his friend, Romano and Greece pleased with their successful attack, America having a huge weight off his chest and Canada happy for his brother. Soon, it was already late in the following day, and everyone was gathered in the commons room, waiting for the arrival of Poland.

"Wasn't he supposed to be here an hour ago?" Finland asked, watching Hanatamago and Kumajirou chase each other in circles on the floor.

"Fl'ght prob'ly g't d'lay'd." Sweden replied, staring out the window. It was raining for the first time since any of them had arrived. It certainly didn't put a damper on the mood though, as America laughed loudly.

"Don't worry! He'll get here. If there's anyone stubborn enough to drag an entire team of shrinks through a storm, it's Poland." he said, lounging back on the couch beside Canada.

"Ve~! I hope he gets here soon! We'll have so much to talk about!" Italy clapped his hands excitedly.

"Yeah, good for you," Romano retorted sarcastically, "The grand reunion of the Fag Brigade!"

"Do you _always_ have a snide remark for every bloody thing?" England asked, slamming a copy of Shakespeare's sonnets closed.

"Damn straight I do!" he nodded, smirking.

"Yer such a brat..." Turkey muttered under his breath, holding a bag of ice over his left eye, which had swollen shut since his 'accident' yesterday.

Romano huffed, "_You_ guys are the ones getting pissed, not me."

"Grâce à toi," France replied, "Why can't we all just wait out the silence, simply enjoying our company?" he asked, sliding closer to wrap an arm around Canada, who flushed.

"_Laissez-moi tranquille!_" Canada squeaked, slipping out of the Frisian's reach. America laughed, while England slapped himself on the forehead.

"All is in jest, my little Mathieu~!" France chortled, holding up his hands in surrender.

"_Oui, j'te gage..._" Canada muttered, before laughing as well, losing his composure to the stupidity of the moment.

"C'rs j'st p'lled in." Sweden stated, still staring out the window. Indeed, through the gloomy darkness of the outside world, a medical van pulled in along the paved roadway, yellow headlights reflecting brightly off of the rain-streaked glass of the windows.

"Judging by the headlights, I'm gonna assume you said that he's here, 'cause I understood none of that." Greece said, moving over to look out the window as well. Stifling a yawn, he turned to China, "They're not _that_ late, are they?"

"Just over an hour, aru. Though it's lucky that the flight wasn't delayed even longer with this storm." China replied, sparing a glance to the clock on the wall.

"Hey, at least he made it safely, eh?" Canada ventured, "I mean, with the storm like _this_-" He was cut off as a loud crack of thunder shook the building, "-It's lucky that they didn't crash or something."

Mere moments later, the unmistakable clacking of high heels against the linoleum tiles echoed down the hallway, like so many times before. Only this time, not only were the noises much faster, but there were multiple sets. Muffled shouts and protests grew louder as the persons in question quickly approached the entrance to the commons room. The owner of the first pair of heels raced through the door, laughing wildly and ignoring the protests of the lady doctor who ran behind.

"Like, ohmigod guys! you would _not_ believe the storm out there! It's like, a freaking hurricane or something!" Poland announced, skidding to a stop expertly in front of the group of Nations, not once stumbling even with his three-inch heels. The Polish doctor accompanying him entered, bending over to catch her breath.

Italy was the first one to attack, "Poland! Ve~! I've missed you so much!" he cried, throwing himself at the smaller man and latching around his chest.

"Italy!" Poland cheered, returning the hug with equal vigor, "I, like, totally missed you too!" he pulled away, taking the time to study the rest of the group through his long eyelashes, "Awww, Liet's not here yet, huh? Too bad, I was getting real, like, sad without him around. But you're just as good, Ita!"

"Poland, dude," America grinned, slapping the other man on the back, "Good to see ya!"

"Like, right back at you." Poland replied, flicking his long hair over his shoulders, "You guys too, France and England! Totally sweet to see you all again."

"Er...yeah." England muttered, sighing deeply. Was it too much to wish that Poland had changed, even just a _little_ bit?

"_Bonsoir et beinvenue,_" France shrugged, gesturing around him.

Greece offered a small wave, and Finland a welcoming "hello", while Sweden just stood there, looking intimidating as usual. China wasn't as close to Poland as many of the others, and so he opted for remaining silent and bowing. Turkey waved, looking rather unhappy with the ice bag still pressed against his face.

"OH! Okay, guys, you've like, totally gotta hear what happened to me on the plane! So, right, there was this guy and he-"

While Poland went on the recount the story of how one of the flight attendants had mistaken him for a pretty girl and flirted with him, Nurse Wilson was engaging herself in a conversation with the doctor that had accompanied the patient over from Warsaw.

"He does not seem to cause problems though?" she asked, and the nurse shook her head in the negative.

"No, only he is very particular about clothes. Best let him wear clothes of choice." the doctor replied, her English only partially broken as she spoke. Nurse Wilson nodded, not quite sure whether she should be relieved or disappointed in the fact that this patient wasn't as mentally stressed as his changes might have suggested.

"Alright. Thank you for the information." she shook the doctors hand, accepting the profile page for this newest patient. As the doctor took her leave, Nurse Wilson took the time to look over the page.

**Feliks Łucasiewicz (Poland)**

**Age:** 19

**Gender:** Male

**Height:** 5"5'

**Birthday:** July 22nd

**Hair Color:** Blond

**Eye Color:** Green

So he was only nineteen? And the second youngest, in between Alfred and Matthew. In total, it seemed to her like the age difference in the patients was very precise. From eighteen to twenty-eight, with the majority of them being twenty-three. They were all very young men; younger than her, at least. They would have had their entire lives ahead of them, but now, with the way this condition had affected them, there was a good chance they'd be ostracized for the rest of their lives. IF they were ever to be discharged from MacFarlane's.

Looking up to the cross-dressing boy across the room from her, a sudden wave of sympathy washed over her. The children with no futures in this room. They were still able to interact in society, but for the sake of public wellbeing and peace of mind, they probably were never going to go back to a normal life. That is, if they would ever want to go back. Their new personas didn't seem like correctness was right on their to-do lists.

Then there was the issue of the press and media sticking their noses around the facility. Three times in the past week, security had to be called in order to escort photographers off of hospital grounds. Two of the incidents had occurred while the patients were out of the building in the fenced-off rec area, putting them in full view of the cameras. They'd been doing all they could to keep the reporters at bay and the patients unaware of what was happening, but with the amount of interest the media was giving them, it was only just a matter of time before _something_ happened.

They didn't even know whether it was already too late.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Two weeks had come and gone since the arrival of Poland, without so much as one call from another country. No more Nations had been found, and if they were out there, they were keeping themselves well hidden. It was now July 12th, meaning that both America and Canada's birthdays had come and gone. The fireworks on Independence Day could be seen clear from MacFarlane's, and the nurses had been kind enough to allow them out into the recreation yard to watch the display. America was ecstatic, while Canada was slightly miffed that there would be no such celebration for Canada Day.

Romano and Greece hadn't been able to enact any of their other plots against Turkey since their first attempt; Nurse Wilson had been keeping a watchful eye on the duo, lest her suspicions be confirmed. They weren't too disappointed though; Turkey had been roomed together with Poland, and the dark rings under his eyes were a telltale sign that he hadn't been getting much sleep out of THAT deal. France's birthday was only two days away; the date of the revolution always served to make the Nation happy, but distant.

Today, they had gathered in a large room on the second floor. The three tables set out in the room were covered in pencils and paper.

"Okay," Nurse Wilson began as she ushered the group of patients into the room, "Dr. Eticott called an emergency meeting, so you'll all have to stay in here and draw until it's over. I know you'd much rather be doing other things, but we're short-staffed and this required the least supervision."

Italy made a concerned noise, "Oh no! Is everything okay?"

"Seriously Ita, everything's prolly, like, totally fine." Poland interjected. In the two weeks he'd been in the hospital, he'd made himself well at home. From the 'acceptable' clothing he'd been allowed to wear to the eyeliner he begged the nurses to let him keep, he had the hospital staff wrapped around his painted, well-manicured finger.

"Poland's right," she agreed, "I'm sure it's nothing too bad. I just need you all to behave while I'm in this meeting, and then I promise, we'll take you outside for some rec time."

"No problem." America grinned, "We don't mind drawing, do we?" Looking to the others, he was met with a chorus of agreement. And why wouldn't he? When you have the skills of your entire country behind you, it was nearly impossible for you to be unskilled at art.

"Thank you."

With that, she left the room. The short walk to the elevator that took her up to the third floor was full of worry. Even she didn't know what the meeting was called for; she was the head nurse, not one of the important, decorated psychologists working in the hospital. The doors ding-ed as they slid open and she hurried down the next hall. The meeting was to be held in one of the conference rooms, which thankfully wasn't too far away from the elevators.

She could hear hushed mutterings from the other side of the double-doors as she drew near, some of the angry mutterings in languages she couldn't understand. The foreign doctors were there already.

Pushing the doors open, she was met with five people. Dr. Eticott, looking stressed and tired, along with Dr. Bolson, the psychologist from the United Kingdom. With them were the doctors from Finland, Italy and Poland. The troubled looks on all of their faces were readily apparent.

"What happened, sir?" Nurse Wilson asked, looking around at the doctors who had turned their attention to her. Tucking a strand of her brown hair behind her ear, she approached her boss, who slid a newspaper across the long conference table toward her.

"_This_ happened." he sighed, massaging the space between his eyes. Glancing down at the article on the table, a gasp escaped her lips.

_MACFARLANE'S HIDING PATIENTS?_

_Not even a month after every existing patient and over half of the medical staff was transferred from the renowned psychiatric hospital, new faces have started appearing around the grounds. Speculated reports claim that the asylum has been cleared out and used as a special facility to house invalids of a new, undisclosed sort. While we cannot provide any solid proof of the true nature of the sudden change at MacFarlane's without a verified source, the hospital staff and administration have been adamantly refusing any attempt at interviews or questions._

_Underneath is a photo taken by one of our amateur photographers. In the photo is 34 year-old Louisa Wilson, the head nurse of MacFarlane's, along with several of these supposed "secret patients"._

The picture included in the article was from the Independence Day fireworks. Dusk had just settled in the black-and-white photo, and Nurse Wilson, as well as America, Canada, and a half-asleep Greece could be seen. America and Canada were settled together on the grass, awed expressions on their faces as they watched the fireworks light up the sky. Greece was sprawled back on the ground, staring with heavy eyes at the sky, while Nurse Wilson stood over to the side, eyes also on the display.

"What...? I didn't even see a camera flash..." she muttered in disbelief, looking up to Dr. Eticott.

"Of course. It would have looked just like another part of the fireworks. I gave you full permission to take the patients out to watch the show; you are in no way to be held responsible for this." he assured, "The only troublesome part of this is what we're to do now. The public is sure to jump all over this. This article has already circulated through most of upper America and Canada. No doubt it'll have arrived in Europe by the end of the week. There's no way of knowing how the higher-upps in the media are going to twist this once it gets circulated."

"Are we shutting the hospital to non-registered personnel?" she asked, pushing the newspaper away.

"Already voted against." he said, "It would make any fabrication the paper comes up with seem even more believable. Plus, we're still retrieving regular supply shipments and it would overreach our budget in order to rely on specified companies."

"We'd better think of something bloody soon," Dr. Bolson interjected, pulling the blinds away from the window, "The dogs are already gathering outside the gates."

Moving over to the window, it was quite plain to see that, indeed, a small crowd had gathered around the front gates of MacFarlane's Psychiatric Hospital. Cameras could be seen recording spokespeople talking into microphones. What they were reporting on, the staff inside could only guess.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

_-Four days later...-_

The lights from the television illuminated the small living room. Immaculately clean, save for the small mountain of beer cans crushed atop the coffee table. A figure lay sprawled out across the couch, flipping through channels via remote.

_"Before me is MacFarlane's Psychiatric Hospital in Washington DC, America. Witnesses have reported seeing the rumored "secret patients" that the hospital staff are supposedly keeping withing the building, under the radar from the public eye. To this date we've been able to gather three photos of some of the patients, but no one has been able to positively identify any of them. Here are the pictures, appearing on your screens"_

As the colored images flashed up on the screen, shadowed eyed widened, and a wolfish grin spread across the face lit by the white light of the television screen.

"Kesesesesese, West! You might wanna see this!" A rough voice cackled. A sigh came from the adjoining room.

"_Ja, ja_, what is it now?"

**-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-**

**translations:**

"_**Mon cher enfant" - "my dear child"**_

"_**Non, non Am**__**é**__**rique!" - "No, no America!"**_

"_**Angleterre" - "England"**_

"_**Allemagne" - "Germany"**_

"_**Chine" - "China"**_

"_**Inghilterra!" - "England!" (Italian)**_

"_**Gr**__**â**__**ce **__**à**__** toi," - "Thanks to you,"**_

"_**Laissez-moi tranquille!" - "Leave me alone!"**_

"_**Oui, j'te gage..." - "Yeah, I bet..." (at least, I think this is it. I'm not sure if it's Frisian, 'cause I heard it from a Quebecois relative) **_

"_**Bonsoir et bienvenue" - "Good evening and welcome"**_

**And there you have it! DUNDUNDUNNNNN~!**

**I do love Turkey; I got to use a Firefly profanity in it! :D**

******As usual, reviews would be lovely!**


	11. Dix: Le Coeur Brisé, Le Coeur Réparé

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

******_Folie à Plusiers_**

Dix: Le Coeur Brisé, Le Coeur Réparé

_Ten: The Broken Heart, The Mended Heart_

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

The proverbial whirlwind arrived three days later.

The morning of July 19th was rather dull. The heat was blistering, even with the hospital's cooling system running on full-blast. Though, regardless of the stifling heat, the air-conditioned insides of the building were still much, much cooler than outside. The group of twelve were gathered in a large room on the first floor (the coolest floor in the building), with multiple fans turned on as well as the AC system. None were happy with the arrangement, though Sweden, Finland and Canada bore the brunt of the misery, not being used to such a climate.

"Why the bloody hell does it have to get so damn _hot_ at your house?" England griped, even grumpier than usual. He had forgone his usual cup of tea for a glass of ice water, and the lack of caffeine wasn't being kind to him.

"England's right, eh!" Canada hastily agreed, curling underneath a table to hide in the shade, "I'd rather be freezing my ass off in Iqaluit than spend a summer here! And we're not even that far south!"

"I agree w'th whoev'r th't 's..." Sweden nodded, wiping sweat off his brow with the hem of his shirt. Canada didn't bother to correct him, both from the heat and the fact that he had absolutely no clue what the large man was saying.

"I, for one, blame global warming! It's an inconvenient truth!" America proclaimed, though his usual self-assured tone was weakened by the exhaustion that could be heard in his voice.

"I think yer all being a bunch'a pussies!" Turkey barked, not at all bothered by the heat. Romano threw him a sharp glare, but shrugged, not having the energy to fight, though he was better off than most of the other Nations.

Greece merely gave a loud snore, turning over in his sleep from his spot on the floor (Finland had already collapsed on the only couch).

"Easy for _you_ to say!" Poland whined, the electric fan blowing his hair out of his face, "You're, like, completely psycho and like, used to stuff like this! The humidity is absolutely _murdering_ my hair!"

"MY hair looks absolutely _merveilleux_ anytime!" France boasted, not sounding very convincing.

"Oh bollocks, was it not _you_ who had that heat wave that killed thousands of people a few years ago? If you were going to be such a nancy about it then, I fail to see how you'd be any different now." England snorted.

"Ah! You wound me, _cheri_, truly!" France mocked, gripping a hand over his heart, "Besides, _L'Angleterre_, _you_ can hardly speak, for all the smog in your house! It's a surprise you haven't keeled over from lung disease!"

"Stop your damn whining!" Romano groaned, pacing back and forth along the side of the room, "You're not the only ones who're pissed and hot right now!"

"_Quoi?_" France asked, shocked, "_Mais_, Romano, I was under the impression that I _always_ look hot!"

A chorus of groans and a few choice expletives followed.

"_T'sais-l__à__, Papa,_" Canada whispered darkly, looking like he was having a heatstroke, "Si_ j'aimais le violence, je t'tuerais._" While none of the other countries really understood what had just been said, the cowed look on France's face was enough to tell them that it wasn't anything pleasant.

"Um, hey, like, ma'am?" Poland asked, a little distracted, "Could we get maybe, I dunno, like, some wet cloths or something over here? I think Finland's, like, dying or whatever."

Nurse Wilson looked over from where she was staring out the window. Oh, dear, the heat must've made her zone out for a couple minutes. Taking a few seconds to blink away the bleariness from her eyes, she asked, "Pardon?"

"Wet cloths or something?" Poland reiterated, "I don't think those northern guys are, like, handling this too well." He gestured to Finland, who groaned from his spot on the couch. The tired Finn nodded vigorously, coupled with a groan of agreement from Canada and a brief grunt from Sweden.

"Of course I could do that," she replied, walking over to the PA system on the wall and pressing the red call button.

_"Yes?"_ the voice of the lady working at the assistance desk sounded over the small speaker.

"It is possible to get some bags of ice and drinks for the patients? We're over in Block A, in the Group room."

_"Definitely, Ms. Wilson. I'll have Emma bring some over right away."_

"Thank you" A loud beep signaled the end of the connection.

Turning back to the group of patients, she smiled serenely, brushing away her bangs that were sticking a bit to her forehead. A sigh of relief was heard from America at the thought of having something cold to drink, and the rest certainly seemed to be in lighter spirits.

"They'll be here soon," she said, taking long strides over to where the Nations were gathered, "Thankfully, though, this heat wave is supposed to be over by tomorrow. I know a lot of you probably aren't used to all this humidity either."

"Certainly not!" England verified, "And for Pete's sake, it's not even midday yet!" He pointed to the clock that hung on the wall above the door. The hands pointed to 11:17.

"Don't worry too much about it. This isn't normal for this area. Normally we don't get anywhere near 100 degrees." she said, but mentally slapped herself at the confused looks she was getting from the patients (save for Alfred). Of course, she'd forgotten they didn't use Fahrenheit. "I'm not entirely sure how hot that is in Celsius though. I apologize."

"Too hot, aru." China said, deadpan.

Nurse Wilson laughed, looking at Yao, who sat in a chair in a shaded corner of the room, "I suppose that's one way of putting it."

In the back of her head, she felt incredibly worried for the patients. The temperature had been incredibly hot for the past two days, and even if it was supposed to go down again tomorrow, it certainly had put a damper on the moods of everyone. Coupled with the fact that they hadn't been allowed to venture outside for the past week for fear of the media that was still scouring the hospital for information.

It had been unanimously decided by the psychiatrists who were in primary charge of the patients, that they would not let the patients go outside until the matter of the press was resolved. There was little knowing when they would finally give up. It could take weeks, months, or even years. It wasn't possible that they could keep the patients cooped up inside the building for that long, even if it _was_ a big building.

So far, they'd only been keeping the patients in Blocks A and B. Their personal rooms, as well as the cafeteria, were both located in Block B up on the third and second floors, respectively. The commons room and well as any of the other room they'd been using during they day had mostly been in Block A on the second floor. The isolation wards were on the fourth floor above both Blocks.

Sooner or later, though, they had to let them go outside for some fresh air. It simply wasn't optional. She just hoped that all the drama will die down before that happened.

A noise down the hall caught the attention of both nurse and patients, making all head turn towards the door.

"Ve~ Is the lady here with some water?" Italy asked, poking his head up from behind the couch, where he had been napping in the shade. His reddish-brown hair was tousled and sticking up in placed from the humidity. He quickly flattened it down with his hands.

Muffled shouting floated into the room, causing Nurse Wilson to frown. She turned back to the patients, a serious expression on her face. She turned and strode out the door, fearing that perhaps the reporters had finally gotten sick of snooping around the grounds.

"What's going on..?" Greece asked, just waking up. His hooded green eyes followed the gazes of the other Nation's over to the door.

"Not sure, aru," China replied, "Though it doesn't sound good, aru."

"Don't worry guys! I'll protect you all, 'cause I'm the Hero!" America proclaimed, placing his hands on his hips. It was amazing how much energy the boy could muster up if he thought he was going to get attention for it.

"Oh, shut up." England rolled his eyes, before returning his attention to the door. The shouts were coming closer now, and were becoming clearer.

_"I'm sorry, sirs, but I can't let you go in there!"_ the voice of their nurse rang down the hallway, followed by hoarse laughter.

_"Kesese, sorry toots, but there ain't no way in hell you're stopping us!"_ Another voice rang out.

_"Hey, what do you think you're doing? Security!"_ A high-pitched, unfamiliar voice.

_"Pshhh! That's not gonna help! C'mon!"_

_"B-bruder, wait-"_

_"Come back here!"_

"Those voices..." Canada trailed off, "It couldn't be..?"

"Oh my god..." England's palm met his forehead rather roughly.

"Ve~?" Italy's hopeful gasp filled the room as he stood up.

The moment passed as six figured burst in through the door. Nurse Wilson, looking downright angry, along with a scared looking nurse wheeling a cart. Two large men in security uniforms were trying in vain to hold back the other two. Well, to hold back one, at least.

"Ha! See, I told you we'd get in!" the silver-haired man exclaimed, attempting deliver an elbow to the stomach of the guard holding him.

"_Bruder_, I can't believe you just barged in like that..." the tall blond one sighed, making no violent attempts for freedom.

Nurse Wilson advanced on the two, "And just what in the _hell_ do you think you're doing? I told you, no one is allowed inside unless you are authorized hospital staff!"

"Well, actually, we are-" the blond one began to explain, but he was cut off by the blur of roan that latched around his torso, knocking him away from the security guard.

"_DOITSU_!" Italy screamed, wrapping his arms around Germany's chest, "_Doitsu!_ I knew you'd show up, ve~! I really did!"

"J-ja, hello Italy..." Germany replied, finding it rather hard to breathe without any air in his lungs.

"Kesesesesese, West! Looks like little Italy was waiting for ya!" Prussia cackled, finally managing to wrench himself away from the security guard.

"Ve! Ve, Oneechan! He came!" Italy called excitedly to Ms. Wilson, relinquishing his vice grip on Germany. Nurse Wilson blinked in shock, not having expected such a reaction for the two supposed 'intruders'.

She sized the two men up, taking in quick details. The loud one was shorter, with hair so light it almost held a silver hue. Pale skin with wine-red eyes gave her the idea that this man was an albino. As for the other one, he was tall, well-built, with short blond hair slicked away from his face and piercing blue eyes.

With some semblance of understanding crossing her mind, she smiled at Italy, before turning to the guards.

"You may leave now. I believe there's been a misunderstanding here." she said. The guards, who were still very, very confused, nodded and left the way they came. She then turned to the other nurse, who was looking father frazzled, "I'm sorry for the commotion Emma...you can leave the cart here, I'll bring it back later, myself." the girl nodded hurriedly and left, seemingly rather happy to be rid of the insanity.

"Damn straight you recognize!" the albino called down the hall after the guards, "You can't handle the awesomeness of the almighty Prussia!" he laughed haughtily, turning back to face the inhabitants of the room, a wicked smile on his face, "Well, it looks like you all could use a dose of awesome, too!"

"Oh, pipe down Prussia, you buffoon." England sighed, though he had an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"H-hey Prussia..." Canada muttered, still underneath the table. Prussia wrinkled his nose.

"Mattie? What the hell are you doing under there? Come out here so you can bask in my awesomeness!" he demanded. Canada laughed quietly, though he slowly inched his way out from the shade of the table.

"It's too hot out, eh."

"Pfft! That's a lame excuse if I ever heard one."

"Prussia!" America called, giving the ex-nation a slap on the back, "At least now there's someone here to make stuff interesting!" he grinned.

"Damn straight!" Prussia barked, continuing through the room.

Nurse Wilson watched with growing concern. With someone like _that_, she might even have to call in an extra nurse or two for supervision. Although, it was perfectly clear to her now, that these two were going to be the newest additions to MacFarlane's. The albino was clearly referring to himself as Prussia, and it was also apparent that the other patients all knew him. She briefly wondered how such a man could have managed to go under the radar for so long. After all, they had shown up at the hospital on their own.

With a smile, she turned back to the two people beside her. Italy, who looked as though he had just won the lottery (or a very large pot of pasta), and the blond man who was looking incredibly awkward as the small Italian bounced around him, playing with his hands and shooting off fifty words per second. She took two steps over to the men, stopping just a short distance away. The blond looked up, a serious expression set on his face, though there was happiness hidden in his eyes.

She held out a hand, "I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that you're the Germany I've heard so much about?" she asked, inclining her head a bit towards Italy.

"Er, ja, that would be me." A mild blush spread across Germany's face as he accepted her hand to shake.

"Don't worry, Italy's only had good things to say about you." she assured. Germany nodded.

"Ve~ See, I told you Germany would come! Isn't he so great?" Said Italian asked, smiling blindingly at the two of them. Nurse Wilson blinked, before smiling back as well. She hadn't seen such a bright, innocent smile on the boy's face before.

"Of course he is, Italy. But what about Prussia? Don't you want to go say hello to him too?" she asked, chuckling quietly to herself when the younger boy bounded off to attack the silver-haired man with a vicious hug. She looked to the German man.

"I hope you and your brother plan on staying with us. Of course, we haven't been expecting anyone showing up from another country without already being in a hospital." she said, "I'm sure it would mean a lot to Feliciano. He's been getting...strange the past couple weeks. He hasn't been this happy in a long time."

Something akin to worry flickered on the Aryan man's face, "Don't worry. I was planning on staying. I never guessed that there was much chance of them all being released. Besides, if there are Nations among people, it's wiser for us to stick together."

She nodded, "I understand. Though, I am going to have to ask for you and your...uh?" she trailed off.

"Brother." Germany filled her in.

"Yes, brother. I am going to need your real names so that I can make files for you."

This time, it was Germany's turn to nod. "Ja, that would be logical. I am Ludwig Beilschmidt, and that is my brother, Gilbert." he gestured to where the energetic Prussian was giving a decidedly less enthusiastic Canada a noogie.

"Thank you. Now," she glanced to the clock on the wall, "I believe it's time for lunch. The others will be more than happy to show you the way to the cafeteria. I'll get started on your files." she turned to head toward the door while Germany followed the group of Nations who were being ushered down the hall by two of the other nurses, each grabbing a drink off of the cart on their way out..

She was going to have an interesting story to tell Dr. Eticott,_ that _was for sure.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"Ne, Germany?" Italy asked, tilting his head as he looked at the taller man, "How did you know we were here? Ve, you're not psychic, are you?" he exclaimed, worriedly.

The two of them were sitting at one of the smaller tables in the cafeteria. Mainly because Germany wasn't quite comfortable with the thought of eating near France and England (they still held grudges against him), and Romano looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel if he came any closer. Italy, of course, hadn't wanted to leave Germany. Both had since finished their food, and were simply waiting on the rest of the group.

"No, Italy. Physic powers aren't real." Germany replied, quirking an eyebrow. Had Italy really been acting different? That was what the nurse lady had told him, but seeing the happy-go-lucky redhead now, it was hard to picture it.

"Then how did Germany know?"

"Well, actually..." he cleared his throat, "It was Gilbert who saw it. A few days ago, on a news broadcast in Berlin. They spoke about 'mysterious patients' or something of that sort, and they showed pictures. That's when Gilbert called me into the room. One of the pictures was America, Greece, and...some other person..."

At another table, Canada sneezed.

"The second picture was China and France, and the third one was of you."

"Ve?" Italy made a noise of confusion and alarm, "Someone took a picture of me?"

"Ja," Germany replied, not finding it very surprising that Italy wouldn't know about the news investigation. "You were looking out a window. You probably would never have noticed it."

"But why would they do that?" Italy asked.

Germany shrugged. He figured that it was best if he didn't scare Italy with the fact that the media was broadcasting them on international television. After all, Italy was his best friend and he certainly didn't want to worry him.

"Uwaaahhhh, but that's kinda creepy, isn't it?" Italy questioned, fidgeting in his seat, "I mean what if there was some really bad person out there taking pictures of me? He could be one of those killers who cuts people up into tiny little pieces with a chainsaw! I've seen one before! He was really really scary, and he wore an ice hockey goalie mask!"

Germany placed a hand on Italy's shoulder to try and stop the smaller's antics, "Italy, calm down. Friday the 13th was only a movie. There's no killers after you in reality." he said, only to be pulled halfway out of his chair when Italy threw his arm around his neck.

"Ve~! Germany, you'll protect me, right? I can't fight away the bad guys!" Italy cried, tightening his hold on Germany to the point where the other Nation was having trouble breathing. Strangely, Germany didn't remember Italy being so dangerously clingy.

"Ja, ja, Italy, I'll protect you, alright? Could you let me go now? Italy! _OFF_!" Germany demanded, but was payed no heed as Italy buried his face further into Germany's neck. The larger Nation felt his face heat up, no doubt going bright red.

"_Italien-_" Germany began, but was cut off by the sharp, loud screeching of a chair being pushed out. Italy lifted his head, and all persons in the room turned in confusion to Romano, who was standing in front of the chair, face twisted into a vicious scowl.

"Romano, are you-" Greece tried, reaching a hand out to the other half of Italy, only to have it smacked away.

"I'm not feeling well." Romano announced through gritted teeth, "I'm going to my room, dammit!" He turned, kicking his chair over and storming his way out of the cafeteria, paying little attention to the nurse who followed him out as she begged him to slow down.

Confused, Germany followed the older Italian's path out of the room. It was obvious that Romano had never liked him. Heck, he downright loathed Germany's very existence. It had never made a lick of sense to Germany, and even now, as he looked at the trail of upturned chairs that marked the Italian's path, he couldn't find any reason for the outburst. It wasn't like Italy didn't constantly hug him.

"Ludwig?" Italy whined, looking at the door worriedly, "Is Romano alright?"

"Of course, Feliciano," Germany replied, also staring at the exit.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

No, Romano was certainly _not_ alright. Damn that fucking potato-bastard, showing up so suddenly and making all his brother's problems disappear. Damn his brother for always having everything turn out right for him. Damn _himself_ for being so inferior and pathetic.

The walls blurred as he ran down the hallway, though whether that was from the speed or the tears that were welling up in the corners of his eyes, he couldn't tell. His hands were balled tightly into fists, his fingernails biting into the skin of his palms deep enough to draw blood. He knew that there was a nurse following him, begging him to slow down and come back, saying that they could help whatever was wrong.

Bull-_fucking_-shit. No one could fix it.

One hallway turned into another and corners didn't exist. It was like a roller coaster that took him down one direction and then immediately to another. He knew his face was red. _Red like a Goddamned tomato, isn't that right?_ He grit his teeth and poured on even more speed. He couldn't even hear the nurse anymore.

The hallways were all deserted from the lack of staff in the hospital. No one saw him, no one heard him. Not that that surprised him, oh no! He was _never_ the one that people payed attention to. He was _never_ the fortunate one.

He reached the door to the room he shared with his _brother_, and twisted to handle, violently flinging the metal door open so that it slammed against the wall. He slammed with shut again with equal force.

The room was dark, but somehow he liked it better that way. If the light was turned on, he'd only be able to see. Everything. Everything that was wrong with _him_ and everything that _he_ couldn't have.

"AAAGGHHH!" he screamed as he kicked the nightstand. The yell made his throat raw and he tasted blood in his mouth. But he didn't care. Just like he didn't care about the sharp pain in his foot that stole the rest of the air from his lungs. He'd probably broken his toes.

"Lovino?" he could hear the voice of that damned nurse outside his door. She had followed him. "Lovino Vargas?"

Oh my God, shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! He didn't want to hear anyone! Especially not a stupid fucking_ human _talking to him like she knew him! He didn't know that nurse, and he knew, oh, he _knew_ that she didn't give a damn about him. Anything to put money in their pocket. He didn't matter to her.

Just like he didn't matter to anyone else.

"Lovino Vargas?" there came the annoying voice again, "I know you're mad, but not why. Come out, please? We can talk this over and find some way past it."

Ha. Right, they could find a way to get past it. And, mad? No, Romano wasn't mad; he was _livid_.

"Fuck _OFF_!" he screamed, turning around to kick the door with his injured foot. His face twisted with pain and morbid satisfaction at the resounding _crack_ of his bones and that the annoying woman's voice had finally fallen silent. He limped back over to his bed, placing as much pressure on his now undeniably broken foot as possible. After all, why should he care if there was no one going to stop him? He flung himself into the mattress with a loud, aggravated sigh that tore at his sore throat even more.

"G-Goddamnit!" his voice cracked as his throat closed up. The tears were falling in torrents now, leaving a trail of dark spots down the front of his shirt. No one was coming for him. The door wasn't locked; that nurse could have come in at any time and stopped him. Of course, he probably wouldn't have listened easily, but he needed someone who wouldn't care!

A sob shook his lean frame. Where was his lucky break? Feliciano had gotten his stupid _Germany_, so where was Romano left now? It just went to prove how worthless he was. There was only one person who liked him for who he was, and even _that person_ was...was...

Was not there.

He kicked his broken foot against the wall, not caring for the gut-wrenching pain that followed. Why? Why the hell couldn't he, _Romano_, be special for once? It just wasn't fair.

Romano knew that he would always pale in comparison to his brother. He knew that he didn't have many friends. But even with that, he wondered 'why'. And 'where'. Where the hell was Spain?

"You f-fucking bastard..." he sobbed, curling up into a tight ball, "Spain..._Spagna_...where the fuck are you w-when I need you?"

He clenched his eyes shut, brows furrowing. The tears still slid down his face, and the sobs still wracked his body, and still, no one opened the door. If he wasn't stuck in the damn place, he would have sued them for their lax staff. He was alone. No one was there.

No one was there to see him break.

**-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-**

***Iqaluit is the capital city of Nunavut, which is one of Canada's 3 territories. It's pretty cold up there! xD**

**Translations:**

"_**Merveilleux" - "Marvelous" **_

"_**Cheri" - "Dear" (feminine, which kinda makes it more insulting)**_

"_**L'Angleterre" - "England"**_

"_**Quoi?" - "What?"**_

"_**Mais" - "But"**_

_**"T'sais-l**__**à**__**, Papa," - "You know, dad,"**_

**"****Si**_** j'aimais le violence, je t'tuerais.**_**" - **_**"**__**IF**__** I liked violence, I would kill you." **_**(not sure how correct this is. I just did it off the top of my head! Curse Verb Tenses and 'Si' clauses!)**

"_**Bruder" - "Brother" (German, obviously)**_

"_**Doitsu" - "Germany" (did I really need to do this, I wonder?)**_

"_**Italien" - "Italy" (German)**_

"_**Spagna" - "Spain" (Italian)**_

**I know that now a lot happened in this chapter, but it's kinda crucial. I'm also really very**

**sorry for being so mean to Romano!**

******Reviews are much love! **


	12. Onze: La Fin S'Approche!

**HOLY CRAP, I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS STORY HAS OVER 300 REVIEWS! YOU GUYS ARE SO AWESOME!**

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

******_Folie à Plusiers_**

Onze: La Fin S'Approche!

_Eleven: The End is Near!_

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Nurse Wilson sighed deeply, sinking back into her chair in the small office meant for the nursing staff. The lights were off, as it was nearing on midnight. With the chaos and excitement that was occurring so frequently, it seemed that she had practically begun living at the hospital. If she were married, she could only imagine how worrisome this would be for her family. She supposed it was times like these that made her thankful that she never had time for things like dating or marriage.

The whirring hum of the printer was the only noise in the room, the blue light from both the machine and her computer monitor alighting the room. Sighing again, she leaned back in her chair to reach the sheets of paper that had just come through the machine. Bringing the two new profiles close to her face, she read her work.

**Ludwig Beilschmidt, "Germany"**

**Age: **20

**Gender: **Male

**Height:** 5'10"

**Birthday: **Unregistered

**Hair Color: **Blond

**Eye Color: **Blue

**Gilbert Beilschmidt, "Prussia"**

**Age: **25

**Gender: **Male

**Height: **5'8"

**Birthday: **January 18th

**Hair Color: **Platinum Blond

**Eye Color: **Red-Violet

Well, at least _these_ turned out alright. It seemed lately like nothing had gone for the better, in the past couple of days. First, there was the issue of the paperwork and explaining she had to do to Dr. Eticott, who was more than a little skeptical about two more patients admitting themselves to MacFarlane's. Secondly, while she was gone, it seemed like Romano had gone through some sort of major breakdown. She was trying to figure it all out, but the situations just kept piling up...

_"Sir, with all due respect, these two men fit perfectly with the diagnosis of the other patients." she said, from her spot on a chair in front of Dr. Eticott's desk. The man raised an eyebrow, disbelief evident on his hollowing face._

_"Louisa, I am not saying I don't believe you, but you have to think about this. What is the chance that two more with this extremely rare condition would just show up at our doorstep? It is much more logical to believe that they are lying. Perhaps they are working for those reporters, and are just trying to get the secrets out about the patients." he replied, sliding his glasses up the bridge of his nose._

_"How would that be possible?" she countered, "The media had no idea, as far as we know, about what goes on within these walls. They don't know about the patients, nor their symptoms. Also-"_

_"Look, I appreciate your dedication to this case, but I really am skeptic that-"_

_"Sir! The patients all recognized the two men!" she interjected, causing the older man to fall silent. His eyes widened. With a short sigh, she continued, "That is what I was trying to say, Dr. Eticott. At first, I believed the same thing; that the two were simply working for the press. But I was wrong. I am certain, without a doubt, that they are affected by the same disease as the others. They came in referring to themselves as Germany and Prussia, and they knew all of the preexisting patients."_

_"So...but, why would they admit themselves?" he asked, "There is no way that someone with this delusion would willingly admit themselves. None of the other patients came by choice. In fact, since they do not seem to recognize their own mentality, they should be trying everything in their power to avoid us."_

_"I believe they came because of the patients already here. The big one, Ludwig, seems to be very close to the younger Vargas brother, while the other one, Gilbert, appears to be friends with the patients Matthew, as well as Arthur and Alfred. I think they came out of pack instinct. They found out somehow, probably through the media interference, that the others were here, and came."_

_Dr. Eticott paused, scratching at his thinning hair, "That sounds plausible. We've already had an incident where a pack mentality overtook the patients; when Lovino Vargas become violent and was sedated...although I am glad that that particular even was wrapped up quickly."_

_"Yes, doctor," she nodded, fidgeting a little in her chair. Did this mean that he believed her now?_

_"If they intent to become formal patients, make sure that their profiles and paperwork gets properly filled out. I don't want any loose ends to come out of this."_

_Standing from her chair, she nodded firmly. She could definitely handle a little bit of paperwork. Leaving the room, the door clicked shut quietly behind her as she made her way down the hall, intent on going to the cafeteria. She had only been with the Doctor for little over forty-five minutes; surely nothing catastrophic had happened in such a short time?_

_But of course, as soon as this though crossed her mind, she heard the clacking of heeled shoes down the hallway behind her. Turning around, she was met with one of her nurses who was supervising the patients during their lunch. Feeling cold dread spread in her veins, she asked:_

_"What happened?"_

_"Ms. Wilson, ma'am!" the younger woman reported, out of breath, "The patient, Lovino Vargas! He's freaking out for some reason, he's been shouting and kicking! He seemed too violent for me to go into his room, so I came looking for you! He's quieted down now, but I could still hear him crying when I left." she said, eyes wide and worry plastered on her face._

_Lovino? Oh no...he was the last person she wanted to be having some sort of mental breakdown. He'd already been sedated once, though the experience had seemed to scare him into behaving much better. What had happened?_

_"Let's go." was all she said as she spun on her heel and jogged down the hallway, intent on reaching Lovino's room in as little time as possible. The hall with the patient's personal quarters soon came into view. Reaching Lovino's room she gently gripped the handle and pulled the door open, mentally shushing the small squeak that echoed through the small room._

_It was dark inside, even with the small, barred window high on the back wall. From her spot in the doorway, Nurse Wilson could see that the nightstand had been overturned. Taking tentative steps in, she moved toward the figure huddled up on the bed, taking in the deep breathing of the man and the slow, shuddering sobs that made his shoulders shake every few seconds._

_"Romano...?" she whispered, reaching a hand out to place it on his shoulder. He didn't answer; instead he curled up tighter, tucking his face into his chest to avoid being seen._

_Sighing, she sat down on the edge of the bed, knowing that she couldn't possibly leave until she figured out what was wrong. _

_"Romano, will you tell me what happened?"_

_A small groan of disagreement reached her ears. Knowing that this was an improvement, and that he wasn't completely ignoring her, she pressed further. Placing her hand on his chocolate brown locks, she leaned down so she was almost whispering in his ear._

_"Look at me, Romano; I want to know what's wrong." she said. Slowly, the head underneath her hand turned, unveiling one hazel eye staring up at her, still red and wet with tears, "That's better. Now, tell me what happened."_

_"Nothing." Romano croaked, his voice scratchy and sore from misuse. He felt horrible, both from the throbbing pain in his foot and the humiliation at being caught crying by Nurse Wilson._

_She raised a slim eyebrow, "Do you honestly expect _me_, of all people, to believe that? I've known you for a while now, Romano, and I know that you don't just cry for no reason. Something happened, and believe me, I'm going to find out one way or another. You might as well just tell me now."_

_Swallowing the lump in his throat, Romano muttered, "It's nothing...it was stupid. I was stupid, just like usual."_

_"Romano." she said firmly, "You are not stupid. Why would you say that?"_

_"Because it's true, dammit!" he hissed, turning so that he was fully facing her, still lying down, "No one likes me here! No one loves me, and they all think I'm a stupid, worthless Nation! And...and I," He swallowed again, "And I _hate_ Germany."_

_She didn't see _that_ one coming. She thought that Romano would be happy for his brother, that he would support his happiness. But before she could open her mouth to question, he continued._

_"I hate that fucking potato-bastard for taking my brother away from me. Italy's head over heels for him, you know? The little fag..." he breathed out harshly, "And where am I? Alone. No one cares about what happens to me, I just get thrown to the wind...'cause I'm so worthless..."_

_She'd heard enough, "Romano, I'm surprised at you. You should be happy for your brother, not wishing him ill. I also know that you're lying about no one liking you; They wouldn't put up with you otherwise. And what about your friend that you and your brother were talking about, Spain?"_

_It was impossible to miss the sharp intake of breath, followed by another sob. Romano had started crying again, "T-that bastard doesn't care either. If he did, he'd be here. He'd come after me...he wouldn't let me be mad or get hurt."_

_"It's not his fault, Romano," she said soothingly, "I'm sure he'll be overjoyed to see you as soon as he gets here." Of course, she hadn't a clue if this was true or not. for all they knew, this 'Spain' would never be found. Perhaps no one with this condition had even come forward yet in that country._

_"Bullshit," he replied, though his voice was much softer; more unsure. He wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt, growling weakly at the tear stains._

_"Come on," she stood up, putting a hand on Romano's elbow to help him up as well, "We should go back. I'm sure your brother is worried sick about you."_

_Romano pulled himself up into a sitting position, "I doubt it. He's probably to busy with the potato-bastard to notice I'm gone." but he made no move to stay, instead dragging himself to his feet. He gave a pained hiss and stumbled on the first step, leaning heavily on the shorter nurse for support._

_"Romano?" she asked, worried, "What happened?" Looking down to the foot he was leaning away from, the right one, she felt sick at the sight of the appendage. The front half was crumpled inward, folding underneath the rest of the foot. Blood stained Romano's white sock, bright red with spots of darker brown where it had since dried._

_"Broke my foot." he muttered through clenched teeth, "It doesn't matter. I deserved it."_

_"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" she demanded, bringing her arms around to hold him steadier. "Jenna! Could you bring me a gurney?" she called out to the other nurse, who was still waiting in the hall. A muffled confirmation followed and moments later, the young lady appeared with the wheeled stretcher._

_"Like hell if I'm going back on one of those!" Romano protested, staring at the gurney, as well as the other nurse (the one who _hadn't_ tried to help him) with an outraged look, daring them to defy him._

_"You don't have a choice." Nurse Wilson told him, helping him walk forward, "You don't even have to lay down on it, if you don't want to. But whether you like it or not, we need to get you to the medical hospital, and there's no way you're walking with your foot practically folded in half."_

_Grumbling, Romano let himself be led to the gurney, sitting down on it. He didn't say a word as the two nurses wheeled him out of the room and down the hall._

Romano had broken almost every bone in the end of his foot, as well as torn the ligaments and muscles. First, he had to be taken into an OR to have his foot re-broken and set back into it's proper place, and then the cast had to be put on. The cast only went up a little past his ankle, and wasn't much of a problem, but the crutches that Romano needed in order to walk were _not_ well received by the Italian.

As if she didn't have enough headaches, she also had to notify Romano's brother about his trip to the hospital. Since Romano retired to his room almost immediately after returning from the hospital, claiming that the anesthetic they gave him while his foot was re-broken was still making him drowsy, she had to go by herself to confront and console the younger brother.

Italy was, for lack of a better word, utterly mortified at the thought of his brother going to the hospital. He had wanted to go see him, but Nurse Wilson advised him against it, saying that Romano was very tired and would heal faster if he got some rest. The small boy reluctantly agreed, and had gone off to wail to Germany about his brother's poor broken foot.

"Ugh..." she groaned, massaging in between her eyes. The artificial glow from the computer was giving her a migraine, and she'd left her bottle of Tylenol back out in her car.

That incident had happened three days ago. _Three_. And still, Romano had refused to come out of his room unless he was forced to by Ms. Wilson herself. Even when he was out of the small room, all he did was limp himself over to a chair and sit there all day, staring out the window. He hardly ate, and talked even less.

On the days where he wouldn't leave his room at all, he would talk to no one but his brother, and occasionally Ms. Wilson. He wouldn't allow anyone else inside the room with him either, unless it was one of those two, but never both at the same time. He had his food brought to him often, as he couldn't be bothered to use his crutches to walk to the cafeteria.

With a tired groan, Nurse Wilson pushed herself out of her chair. Grabbing her coat and purse from the coat hanger, she stepped out of the small office, locking the door behind her. She figured that, by the time she got home, she would be able to get at least 5 hours of sleep before morning came and she had to go right back to MacFarlane's.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

The next day was July 23rd. The heatwave had since passed, as predicted, putting both patient and nurse in much higher spirits.

"Hey, hey, Matt!" America grinned, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, "Matt, guess what?"

"...What?" Canada asked, raising an eyebrow. It wasn't a rare occurrence that his brother came up to him asking this exact question, although it _was_ rare that he actually had something worth saying to go along with it.

"Aww, you're no fun," he pouted, "I just wanted to tell you that I think Iggy's not ignoring me as much as usual!"

"No one can ignore you, Al," Canada pointed out, "You make sure of that..."

The boisterous boy laughed, ruffling the younger one's hair, "You're such a card, bro! But seriously, I think he's being nicer to me, too!" the excitement in America's voice was unmistakable. Feeling the contagious smile make its way across his face, Canada laughed as well.

"Good for you...b-but, are you sure he's not just hanging around you to avoid being bothered by Gilbert?" he asked cheekily, glad that they were alone in the spare room, for fear of being overheard by the aforementioned albino.

"C'mon Mattie, do you have to rain on my Hero Parade?" America asked, "And besides, since when have you been on a human-name basis with Prussia?"

Canada blushed, ducking his head when he saw the wolfish grin spread across his brother's face, "Alfred, please, you know that he spent a lot of time at my house after East Germany disbanded...we're friends."

"Psshhh! _Friends_, Mattie? If I didn't know better, I'd say that Operation MIL could use the sister project of 'Get Mattie Laid'!"

The northern country's face was bright red now, "I-I don't think so. I d-don't like G-Gilbert that way..." Of course, America didn't buy one word of it, "Besides, I-I thought this was about getting you and England together?"

"Oh fine," America flicked his wrist, "Besides, if you _did_ like Prussia, I'd have to tell you: Your taste in men sucks!" he laughed, throwing an arm around Canada's shoulders.

"Gee, how thoughtful of you..." Canada muttered sarcastically. He wasn't going to point out (again) to America that it was _he_ who had fallen for their parental figure.

"I know, right?" America exclaimed, oblivious.

"A-anyway, what are we going to do today? I was thinking about talking to England about his feelings for you. I mean, there's no point if he likes someone else, eh?" It was true, although Canada couldn't really see England having much of a sex life.

"Great idea!" America agreed, "I was thinking about talking to China. If anyone would know secrets about another Nation, it'd be him! He's so old, and he probably keeps records of _everything_, y'know?"

Canada nodded, "So, we'll meet back here after dinner, right? Then we'll compile our information."

"If I knew what 'compile' meant, I'd agree with you!" America grinned, and Canada fought back the urge to slap his forehead, "But, sure! Just as long as you can keep your eyes off of Prussia long enough to get the information!" he laughed, jumping up from his chair as Canada swung a light punch in his direction.

"Get back here, Alfred!" he called, giving chase.

"In your dreams, Mattie!"

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Greece was sitting by the open window, head in his hand. He wasn't sleeping, which was a miracle in itself, but was also somewhat confusing. As to why he wasn't sleeping? Well, the answer to that was right outside, in clear view from the window he was looking out.

A cat. An adorable little cat with white whiskers and a brown and white body, mewling out in the yard. The poor little thing had probably gotten lost, and was drawn to the hospital by Greece's abnormal cat-attracting powers.

It was really too bad he wasn't allowed to go outside to get it. It was truly an adorable creature.

Then again, the room they were in today _was_ on the bottom floor. The window was only about a four-foot drop to the ground; he certainly wouldn't be hurt from it. Besides, the nurses weren't really paying much attention to him, since he was just sitting there quietly.

He gazed around behind him, just to make sure no one was focused on him, before standing up from his chair. It didn't squeak, which he supposed was fortunate. One more second, and he jumped out the open window, incredibly thankful that there was no screen covering it, as he hadn't really checked and would likely have ran straight into it.

He landed in the flowerbed, crouching down behind some small shrubs as he brushed dirt and wood chips off of himself. The cat was only a small distance away...he could reach it in a couple seconds. He heard voices from the window above his head and realized that the nurses had likely noticed his Houdini act, meaning that he had to get to the cat _now_.

"Here, cat..." he called quietly, stepping out of the bushes. The tiny thing looked up at him questioningly, scampering closer. It inched its front paws up his leg and meowed. Greece picked the adorable cat up, bringing the strange thing up to his face to look at it better. He furrowed his eyes as something clicked in the back of his mind, and suddenly the furry feline in his hands didn't seem so strange at all.

"Corporal Cat..?" he asked, and the cat meowed happily in response. He held the cat in his arms as he turned to head back to the window, stopping when he saw Nurse Wilson standing just inside it, arms crossed over her chest disapprovingly.

"Greece, what do you think you were doing? You know you're not allowed outside!" she demanded, clearly looking for answers. In response, he held up Corporal Cat.

"Cat." he replied lazily, already feeling the need for a nap overtaking him. Nurse Wilson's gaze softened, almost as if with pity, and she offered out a hand. He took it without a second thought, using it to lift himself back in through the window.

He set his cat down on the floor, watching it scamper over to Kumajirou, Hanatamago, and the little chick that had shown up with Prussia. Smiling tiredly, Greece dragged himself over to the couch, collapsing on it.

He missed the sad gleam in Nurse Wilson's eyes, directed at his sleeping form.

There was no cat.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"H-hey, England..?" Canada called, walking over to his old caretaker. England spun around, a confused look on his face.

"America? What do you want?" he asked, even more confused when Canada gave a resigned sigh, walking closer.

"I'm Canada, not America." he said simply, pointing at himself for emphasis.

England blinked twice, letting himself absorb this new information, "Canada..? Oh, right, Canada! Terribly sorry about that, lad. What can I 'elp you with?"

"Well, actually..." Canada began, "It's kinda about America..."

"What's the git done this time?" England asked, rolling his eyes. Canada winced; maybe this hadn't been such a good idea.

"I was just...er, wondering..."

"Wondering what? Spit it out!" England sighed, "Sorry, I've been on a bit of a short fuse lately and Prussia's been driving me insane. I have no clue how Germany managed to put up with that oaf."

"O-oh..." Canada trailed off, face colouring as he thought back to his conversation with America, "Okay. I was just wondering, what do you think about my brother?"

"What?" England asked, once again confused, "What do I think about 'im?" The short blond scratched at his head. Canada sighed.

"I mean, does he really annoy you as much as everyone thinks he does? Alfred doesn't try to come off as bothersome, it's just how he is and-" Canada found himself cut short of his ramblings by a hand placed over his mouth.

"Matthew, you don't have to get so worried." England said, "In all honesty, your brother can be a real pain in my arse. It doesn't mean I hate him. I hated him for a long time after he defeated me and gained his independence, but that was centuries ago."

"So you...don't hate him?"

"Not at all. Granted, he's still a world-classed buffoon with an ego the size of Russia, but he's not all bad." England clarified, looking up into the face of the younger North American brother, "What're all these questions about, Canada? You're not usually one for interrogations."

"W-well, I was just curious, eh?" Canada lied, "You g-guys always fight, and it's p-pretty disconcerting when your family members are always at each other's throats."

"Are you sure?" England raised a massive eyebrow, "You always did stutter more when you were nervous...or lying."

"W-what?" Canada squeaked, "I'm not l-lying! It's just that...well, Alfred was worried that you hated him or something!" Well, it wasn't _exactly_ a lie, now was it?

"..." England opened his mouth to reply, but found no one to speak to as Canada turned and fled, picking up his polar bear on his way out the door. Hm. Well, that was unusual.

He wondered briefly if someone had put the meek boy up to questioning him. Lord knows the boy was a real softie unless you knew which buttons to press. Unfortunately, he couldn't think of anyone in the building who would gain anything from getting Canada to approach him, other than America. Though, England was fairly sure it wasn't the other brother; Canada always had more of a backbone when dealing with America than others.

"Oi, England!" a raspy voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned, with a frown set on his face, to see Prussia looking at him with a predatory look on his face.

"What the bloody 'ell do you want, Prussia?" he asked shortly. If there was one Nation other than America who could drive him to the point of multiple homicide, it was the Königreich Preußen.

"Aw, can't I just wanna talk to my buddy?" Prussia laughed, "I thought we were past all the hostility, man! Where's your awesomeness gone?"

"No, you can't, because you never _just_ want to talk. I told you before; there is _no beer_ in this facility." Never again would England forget the humiliation of getting drunk in the presence of Prussia. It wasn't possible: Prussia had more than enough pictures and a diary full of stories left behind from _that_ ordeal.

"Kesesese, wrong answer! I don't want anything outta you, I just wanted to know what you said to make Mattie run outta here all flustered like that!" Prussia retorted, tilting his head to the side, causing the small chick nestled in his silver locks to chirp unhappily and hover above his head.

"I didn't do anything!" England defended, "He came asking some questions about my attitude toward America, and what the 'ell makes you think you can call him by his human name, anyway, you bloody kraut?"

"Ha! Shows how much _you_ know! Me 'n Mattie go way back, even America knows that. Plus, it sounds to me like Canada's playing a bit of matchmaker, don't it? Not getting hot for your former charge, are you?" he grinned suggestively. England felt his face heat up at the mere thought.

"Sod off, you bleeding git!" he yelled, advancing on the Germanic Nation, fist pulled back to swing. He never got a chance to fulfill his intentions, as Prussia laughed and ran away, "And you keep your bloody hands away from Matthew!" Again, only coarse laughter.

Shaking his head, he chuckled. Surely, Canada wasn't trying to see if he...if he _liked_ America.

Was he?

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"That's exactly my point, China!" America exclaimed, throwing his hands over his head, "So there's absolutely _nothing_ interesting about Iggy that you can tell me?"

"I already told you, aru," China said, "He was a pirate back in his younger days, and a real punk after that. He still loves piracy and brawling and other barbaric acts like that, aru, although I can't see why..."

"Whoa, so you're telling me that _Iggy_ is into gang fights and street brawling?" America asked, mouth agape, "_Iggy?_"

"That's right, aru," China nodded, making some of his long hair fall over his shoulder, "Though I hardly think he'll admit it. I think it shames him, aru, since he's trying so hard to fit into his 'gentleman' role, aru. His punk life isn't high priority for him anymore, aru."

"That's...pretty awesome." America admitted. "I mean, France showed me a picture once, of Iggy decked out in goth makeup and piercings. He was wearing those ripped acid-wash skinnies and stuff...but I thought he just Photoshopped it or something."

"No, aru, that would have been very real. I think tha—" China cut himself off as a cat dashed in front of him, nearly causing him to fall, "Where did that come from, aru? However, I think that England did everything in his power to keep that side of him away from you and your brother, aru. Best not let him know that France showed you that picture, aru."

"Good point." America agreed, "Although I don't see why he's keeping something so epic a secret! I bet loads of people here have worse secrets! Like, oh, uhm...Sweden! He definitely seems like the kind of guy who has people buried in his cellar!"

Sweden's head jerked up from his spot across the room to stare at America. Who, of course, was completely oblivious to the attention he was drawing.

"—Finland too! He's got such an innocent face! He's probably the one who lures the people to their untimely deaths!"

"I-I..._what_?" Finland floundered, shocked.

"—Poland's probably hoarding money so he can get a sex change...oh, come on, like you didn't see _that_ one coming!"

The appalled gasp from the Pole could be heard clear across the room.

"—And I bet that Turkey's got a whole harem back at his house—"

Turkey chuckled distractedly, not even bothering to deny it.

"And I know for a _fact_ that Canada and Prussia smoke weed every Saturday—"

"_A-Alfred!_" Canada stuttered, face turning bright red. Prussia, however, merely threw his head back and laughed.

"So why should it matter whether or not Iggy dresses like a teenage punk and beats people up in alleyways?" America continued on, only to fall silent from the loud exclamation that came from further down the room.

"WHO THE BLOODY 'ELL TOLD YOU THAT?" England roared, face contorted with anger, "It was _you_, wasn't it?" He reared on France, who paled considerably.

"N-non, I assure you, it wasn—_AU SECOURS_!" France yelped as England attacked, narrowly dodging a fist thrown at his head.

Entertained laughter broke out between the other Nations as they watched the struggle between the Anglo and Francophone. Needless to say, France was losing the battle. Not that that came as a surprise to any of the others.

Nurse Wilson was crossing the room, and just about to put an end to the fight, when the telltale _beep_ of the PA system cut over the ruckus, drawing the attention of everyone in the room, including the fighting men.

_"Ms. Wilson?"_ It was Dr. Eticott, _"I'm sorry for interrupting anything, but I do have a rather important announcement to make."_

"Of course, Sir." she replied, "Go right ahead."

Every head in the room was turned toward the speaker, waiting eagerly for the news about, as they all guessed, who was to be joining them next.

_"As I'm sure you've already guessed, we will be having a new patient joining us,"_ he began, _"Though, as we are sorting out some transportation and political issues, it is safe to say that he will not arrive until sometime next week."_

"C'mon!" Prussia interrupted, "Just tell us who is is already!"

_"...The next patient is a young man by the name of Im Yong Soo, who will be coming to us from Seoul, South Korea."_

The room went deathly quiet, as all heads turned surreptitiously to glance at China, who had turned as white as a sheet. Prussia gave a wicked laugh, followed closely by Turkey.

China swore he felt his death looming upon him.

**-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-**

**ENJOY YOUR PEACE WHILE YOU CAN, ASIAN! AHAHAHA*cough***

***Oh, and yes, Canada is known for smoking a LOT of marijuana. No matter who denies it, Canada is a pothead.**

**Translations:**

_**"Au secours!" - "HELP!"**_

******Reviews are still lovely; as I love to hear what you think!**


	13. Douze: C'est Comme Ça

**Whaaaaaat up! Yes, I know, you all think I'm a terrible person for keeping you waiting for so long, but I assure you, I didn't mean to! My laptop is STILL not working and I've only just managed to salvage the rest of my files today. Hence, why I was actually able to finish this. Yes folks, I wrote the majority of this chapter today. Just for you. Because I felt like such a bitch.**

**Sadly, now that my files are all saved, my laptop can now be trashed...which leaves me without anything to write on, since I'm not allowed to use the tower for long amounts of time (Oh yes, you people who went and read my genflip, "Doing It Right", I love you, and that's why it's been taking me so long to update!). So updates are still up in the air for now.**

**On a happier (or sadder) note, Folie is now over a year old! It was almost exactly a year ago today that I posted Chapter 4!**

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

******_Folie à Plusiers_**

Douze: C'est Comme Ça

_Twelve: That's How It Is_

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

In this world, it is a very well-known fact that there are things of a certain caliber which could only be classified as _awesome_. Though, if you asked people, you would just as soon find that their opinions on what is _awesome_ differs.

Gilbert Beilschmidt, or rather, Prussia, was the only exception.

He was the very epitome of awesomeness, ever since he was born! Nothing could rival his awesomeness, and he made _damn sure_ everyone else knew it. There were many things that Prussia considered to be awesome...like little birds, himself, maple syrup, himself, invading vital regions...the point is pretty clear.

One thing however, that Prussia most certainly did _not_ find awesome, was being locked in a psych hospital.

Now, truth be told, he hadn't openly objected to Germany's idea to go to America and bring some awesomeness to their fellow nations. Heck, some of his friends had gotten themselves stuck there in the place; France and Canada among them. A member of the infamous Bad Touch Trio, as well as the kid who could make the best fucking pancakes in the world. He had to do _something_, right?

His life had been rather unawesome for the last couple months, anyway. He just randomly woke up one morning, with no clue where the fuck he was, or what had happened. He had been all-too ready to blame copious alcohol consumption, but when Germany came stumbling into his room, asking questions about the same thing, it was quite obvious that something was fucked up. It was Germany's brilliant idea for him to stay cooped up in their apartment for almost two months, since no matter where they went, Prussia's _unique_ attitude seemed to attract attention. Germany had continued to go into the city (It turned out he had a job at a large factory on the outskirts of Berlin, for some reason) and get money, but Prussia was forced to stay inside.

As stupid as West's idea was, Prussia had to admit that it was for the best. After all, the people of Berlin just wouldn't be able to handle his awesomeness.

Besides, the hospital wasn't all bad. He could harass the nurses whenever he wanted, he got three full meals a day (no beer, regrettably), and he could bug the hell outta the other Nations. He just thought that it was kinda stupid that, for some reason, they were restricted to being inside the buildings. The almighty Prussia cannot be contained! It's ludicris!

Well, and then there was the fact that the hospital staff found "invading vital regions" to be highly inappropriate.

"Seriously! These people need to pull the sticks outta their asses and learn to live a little!" Prussia sighed, slumping down further into the chair, crossing his arms behind his head, "They should be honoured that I'm gracing them with my presence!"

"Oui, I am sure," France replied from the adjacent chair, "Just remember, _Prusse,_ that you get a needle in your arm and a day in a padded room if you try too much. The staff here are just so, ah, oblivious to the wonders of _l'amour_."

Prussia snorted, throwing a sidelong glance to his partner-in-crime, "Come _on_, Francis! Are you telling me that spending all this time in here's made you go soft in the head? Or are you speaking from experience?"

"Non, non, I am not, thank God. But you see, most of us were here when it happened to Romano; it was not a pretty sight." France waved a hand about his face.

"Ooohhhh, snap. Bet the little fucker deserved it though! Seriously, France, the kid's been out for our blood since he was barely knee-high! If he did anything that was half as unawesome as what he did on a daily basis back who-knows-when, I'm not surprised!" Prussia pointed out, quirking a pale eyebrow as he waited for his response.

"To be honest, none of us know exactly what happened. All we heard was shouting, and then the nurses took him away. _Italie_ said that he was really mad (but it's not like we didn't already know that), and that he didn't know why. We were all quite angry at first, but it's useless to hold grudges over that sort of thing. They were only doing their job."

"Jeeeee-sus!" Prussia breathed, looking up to the ceiling, "Just when I thought that being stuck here couldn't get any more unawesome. Now I've gotta be on the lookout for nurses with tranques and hot-headed Italians. Ugh. Where's Antonio when you need him?"

"Amen," France nodded, "Let's both hope our sunny Spain shows up soon. Romano certainly hasn't been himself for the past two weeks...ever since he broke his foot. As much of a tyrant the boy is, I'd hate to see him get hurt."

"Ja, I guess. But where the fuck is Antonio anyway? We can't leave the amazing Bad Touch Trio unfinished!" Prussia proclaimed, punching a fist into the air.

"_Bien s__û__r, mon cher ami_. Also, it would be a relief to have our little posse complete; no one else here seems to like me, for some reason." he shrugged, as if the very thought of that made no sense whatsoever.

"France, I hate to break this to ya, but most of the world doesn't like you!" Prussia sniggered, breaking into full-fledged laughter at France's shocked face, "Oh, c'mon! It's not like you didn't know!"

"It's not _my_ fault that they don't appreciate my love! I'm just trying to spread _l'amour_!" France defended.

"And that's exactly why Switzerland sleeps with a .45 under his pillow. And why Finland is never alone with you. And why Italy's not allowed to read your books. And why-"

"Alright, alright, _mon Dieu_, I get it." France sulked. "Truly, have we nothing better to speak of? We must, _j'en suis s__û__r._"

"Kesesesese, like what?"

"Ah, well..."

"Well, what?"

"..."

"...This was a lot easier when we could invade vital regions."

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"And so then I told him, really; I did! I told him: 'like, Liet, you know that she's totally _not_ that into you', which then totally reminded me of this one movie I went to see before that, and I started laughing, because it was a totally fab movie, for serious! But anyway, we-"

Turkey groaned, slamming his head down onto the table he was sitting at. Why was his life so damn miserable? Just when he thought he could gain some well needed sleep at the table in the Commons Room, who else would decide to talk to him, but Poland?

Especially if you count the fact that Poland is the reason he was needing the sleep. Having the obnoxious Pole as a roommate certainly did not make his nights enjoyable, whether it was from the fact that Poland liked to stay up until ungodly hours of the morning gossiping and playing with his makeup, or that whenever he _did_ finally manage to doze off, he would be awakened because he was 'having a conversation' and that falling asleep during it was 'like, so totally rude'.

"-So then that dog brought home another dog, and I'm pretty sure they, like, did the nasty while I was out shopping, but I just couldn't leave the other one alone! She was sooo cute! Anyways, I begged Liet a-" this was right about the time when Turkey decided to, one again, drown out the noise around him.

He didn't understand why his luck decided _now_ of all times to abandon him. Heck, ever since he was taken into a mental hospital by a bunch of humans, his life had been downright awful. Starting with having his precious mask taken away (really, the nerve of some people), and then he got himself stuck with Poland as a roommate, and to top it all off, something came out of freaking _nowhere_ and nailed him in the face. Although, that had happened over a week ago, and the bruise had nearly faded. It was just the whole ordeal that helped him determine that his luck was absolute shit.

"Uh, Turkey? Are you, like, even listening to me?" Poland asked sharply, cutting into his train of thought.

"...Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah..." he mumbled, glancing around the room distractedly, "Think ya could excuse me fer a moment..?"

He didn't even register Poland's offended shouts as he wandered away from the table. He needed to get away from that menace, and if he had to be a jerk to do it, then too freakin' bad. He was _Turkey_, the goddamned former Ottoman Empire! He didn't have to put up with bullshit from a psychotic crossdresser!

...This is overlooking the fact that he'd been putting up with said bullshit for a few weeks now.

He left the Commons Room, heading out into the hallway. He knew there was a few other rooms down the hallway that they were allowed to use whenever they wanted without direct supervision, so he figured that he could use one of them to catch some much-needed shuteye. He knew he wasn't going to be getting any tonight.

"Feckin' brat and his stupid annoying voice an' not lettin' me get any sleep...an' that gorramned Korea brat gonna be showing up anytime now gonna be even more of a headache..." he muttered under his breath, trudging through one of the doorways (well, there wasn't actually a door per se, thanks to hospital policy) that lead to an abandoned room. An abandoned room that also happened to have a couch in it.

Flopping down onto the couch, Turkey sighed. He felt like he could just die right there, though _that_ certainly wasn't about to happen. He flung an arm over his face to block the harsh lights, breathing deeply. This was the most quiet time he'd had in days.

"I swear, if Poland 'er Greece freakin' come find me fer no reason, there'll be blood spilled in this hospital," he stated aloud, just for the satisfaction of it. It made him feel like they were given fair warning, because he was certainly _not_ in the mood for anything other than sleep at the moment.

He heard soft voices and footsteps pass by in the hall, but he ignored them completely in favour of drifting off into a much-needed slumber.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

In the hall however, things were not so placid.

"Ve, isn't there anything you can do?" Italy asked worriedly, walking alongside Nurse Wilson. The worry was evident on his face, and he wrung his hands together to distract himself as they walked.

"At the moment, I'm not sure what to do," she replied, "I know you're quite worried about your older brother; I'm worried for him too. The thing is, that we don't know what's wrong with him. He's coming out of him room now, but he's not doing much more than that...he won't even talk, much."

Italy nodded his head and gave a low whine, looking down to the shorter woman anxiously.

"Unless we can figure out that's wrong with him, we can't so much to help. Do you have any idea what would make your brother shut down like this?" she asked. Italy furrowed his brows, staring at the floor as he thought.

"Well...I don't know. Romano's never really been like this before. Usually he's always talking and always shouting and swearing, but he..." he paused to think, "Umm...Oh, I guess that he gets kinda quiet when he's alone. When he thinks that there's no one around him, he doesn't talk much at all. Same for when he doesn't get what he wants, only he gets really pouty. But that can't be it, since there's so many others here... not that he really cares about any of them. Please sis, I'm really scared for my brother!"

Nurse Wilson took a moment to take in the pleading expression on the young man's face, and heaved a sigh. There really wasn't anything she could do until they knew more about the situation, but it was also infuriating to do _nothing_ in the meantime.

"Perhaps I'll try to talk to him later today. Would that make you feel better, Italy?"

"Please! Thank you so much! I'm sure Romano will thank you too when all this is behind us and we can be like normal again!" he smiled, "I'd talk to him myself, but he just gets mad at me!"

"I'm sure it's just his way of showing that he cares about you," she sad, although she wondered how true her own words were. Of course, she knew that the Italian brothers loved each other...it was just...hidden at times. On Romano's part, at least.

"I know! I care about him too, that's why I'm so scared for him..." Italy mumbled, nervously studying the linoleum tiles. He caught himself, plastering a bright smile back onto his face, "But I know you'll help us out!"

Nurse Wilson felt herself return the smile. How could she disappoint a face like that?

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

China liked to consider himself a very knowledgeable and practical Nation. After all, he was over four millenniums old, and with _that_ kind of age, came much wisdom.

However, all the wisdom in the world couldn't have prepared his rational conscience for this.

South Korea.

The name itself brought a sinking feeling to China's stomach. Truly, he did love his little brother...just not in the way his brother seemed to love him. Or Japan for that matter. Korea was simply too much to handle. His energy was nearly inexhaustible, his attention span rivaled that of a gnat, and his obsession with claiming other people's things for his own (namely, their breasts. Or lack thereof), was absolutely insufferable.

If he kept worrying over this, China was sure he was going to end up with gray hairs before Korea even stepped foot inside MacFarlane's. Which was another issue. It had been roughly a week and a half since the head psychiatrist of the institution had informed them that Korea had been found. Well, due to arguments and failed negotiations between the high-faluting members of whatever was in charge of getting all of the discovered patients to the same hospital, Korea had yet to arrive.

Put in simpler terms: China had no idea when Korea was going to arrive. It could very well be any day now. And his anxiety was getting worse by the day.

He sighed aggravatedly, tugging on the elastic band that was wrapped around his ponytail (it had been quite a struggle to convince the nurses to let him keep the hairtie; you'd think he was planning to kill himself with it). His old heart just couldn't handle this.

"China...are you feeling alright?" came a soft voice from behind him. Turning around, China was met with the worried face of Finland.

"Ah, Finland. I assure you, I am feeling fine, aru," China assured, offering a close-lipped smile. He and Finland weren't very close, in terms of familiarity, but if the younger Nation was worried about him, he couldn't very well turn a cold shoulder.

"I you say so," he didn't look convinced, "You've just been standing there, fretting and fiddling with your hair. I don't know about you, but where I come from, that's not the look of someone who's alright."

"..." well, it seemed he couldn't ease his way out of this one. It was a shame really, as China was not someone who particularly liked having people worry about him, "You are certainly more perceptive than people credit you for."

"Is it because of your brother?"

"...You are certainly MUCH more perceptive, aru."

"Call it intuition," Finland shrugged, "I lived with Sweden and Sealand, and they can both be childish. I guess I've just gotten a knack for figuring out problems." the young Nation chuckled warmly.

China sighed wistfully, "I understand completely, aru. I raised practically the rest of Asia, although...nowadays I have no clue what any of them are thinking. They used to look up to me, you know. I loved being the strong big brother that looked after them, aru, but they just got so _big_...and I don't think that these old bones can handle it anymore."

"Cheer up," Finland smiled, "Even if they don't show it, they still love you. You can't just kill a bond that strong; you raised them for centuries," he paused, "But you have to give a little too. They aren't the little Nations you raised. They've grown, and they've changed. I think that maybe you need to open up to who they are _now_. You should keep that in mind when Korea gets here."

China blinked at the unusually sage-like Finland, "I...never really thought of that. When did you become so wise, aru?"

Finland chuckled, placing his finger along the side of his nose, "It's a secret. I'm still just the same old Finland."

"Ah. Well, I thank you for your kind words. I shall take them to heart, aru," he bowed his head respectfully, with Finland repeating the gesture, "But right now, I think I'll ask the nurses to brew some tea, aru. Would you liked to join me?"

Unfortunately, Finland shook his head in the negative, "Sorry, I really can't. I need to go back and keep an eye on Su-san. He's helpless without me," he laughed good-heartedly, "Maybe next time, alright?"

China nodded, "Of course, aru."

Finland waved in goodbye as the older Nation left the room, presumably to find a nurse to inquire about some tea. The blond haired man sighed, ruffling the back of his head. He really hoped that he had given China good advice, as he didn't know Korea personally...but he'd heard stories. Sadly, they were all rather unflattering in regards to the boisterous Asian. There had to be _some_ good things about Korea, as Finland wasn't wont to believe that anyone was truly bad until they proved him otherwise. Really, if he could be persuaded by stories and appearances, he would've steered as far away from Sweden as possible.

"Well, best of luck to him then..." Finland mumbled (mumbling? Oh dear, he must've been picking up on Sweden's speech habits!) as he made his way to exit the room as well, stepping out into the hallway just in time to collide headfirst with Italy. Well, more like head-to-shoulder with Italy, as the southern Nation stood a good couple inches taller than himself.

"Waah!" Italy shouted in surprise as he stumbled back, thankfully not floored by the impact. For Finland, unfortunately, the crash had send him falling back onto his ass, groaning.

"Ugghh..." he held his nose in pain. Thankfully, it wasn't bleeding, but that didn't stop it from hurting any less.

"Oh no! Finland, are you alright?" Italy exclaimed worriedly, frantically picking the smaller man up under his arms and setting him back on his feet, "You're not bleeding are you? Oh no, please don't be bleeding! If you're bleeding you could die and that would be really really bad! Oh god! Oh god! He's gonna die, isn't he Nurse Wilson? I killed Finland!"

"Italy, Italy! I'm fine!" Finland nearly had to yell for his voice to be heard over Italy's panicked tones, his voice sounding awkward and nasal as he still had his hand over his face.

"Yes, Italy. Look, he seems to be just fine," Nurse Wilson agreed with the injured patient, placing a hand on Italy's shoulder as the man tried to calm down, "Although really, you should pay more attention to where you're going instead of running ahead like that."

"Veee..." Italy sniffled, rubbing at his eyes, which had begun to tear up, "I'm sorry! I really didn't mean to hurt you!"

Finland waved his free hand dismissively, "No, no! I'm perfectly fine, so please don't worry about it! I'm sure that I should've been paying more attention too!" He slowly removed the hand from his nose, pleased to see that there was, indeed, no blood, "See, I'm not even bleeding. You worry too-" his train of thought was cut off as loud footsteps were heard thundering down the hallway.

"Oh dear...now I'm in for it..." Italy mourned, looking down at the floor as Germany rounded the corner at a run, Sweden right on his heels.

"What happened?" Germany demanded, coming to an abrupt stop in front of the trio, "Everything was quiet, and then we heard Italy screaming-"

"-Scr'min 'bout 'im kill'n m' w'fe" Sweden cut in overtop of Germany's sentence, looking at Italy with a curious expression on his face. Of course, by wearing a curious expression, Italy assumed that Sweden's face meant absolute anger and a painful death.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to run into him I swear!" Italy cried, holding his arms out like a shield, "Please don't kill me! I have relatives in Göteborg!"

"He's right, Su-san!" Finland jumped in at the other Nation's defense, only _slightly_ off-guard by Sweden's scary expression, "It was an accident, and Italy just kinda...overreacted. There's no hard done, see?" he gestured to himself.

Germany sighed forcefully, sidling past Sweden and Finland to stand beside Italy, "Really, do you have to scream and cry at every little thing? I swear, you never change a bit, Italy," but his disappointed tone was undermined by the somewhat amused smile on his face.

Unfortunately, Italy couldn't read the look on Germany's face, and started to cry again, "I'm sorry Germany! You're always telling me what a bad soldier I am and how disappointed you are! I won't ever do it again! Just please, _please_ don't leave me again!" he wailed, wrapping his arms around Germany's torso in a leech-like hug.

Nurse Wilson had stepped back from the group, intent on simply watching them to see how they would sort this out amongst themselves. Although, she had to admit that she was concerned about Italy. While it was certainly true that his mood and stability had greatly improved since Germany arrived, she was worried about his habit of clinging to the taller man. It was obvious that Italy feared being without him, but was almost like...like he was begging Germany to stay with him.

"Italy, stop your crying," Germany said, resting his hand atop the man's auburn head, "Why would I leave you? Prussia and I flew here from my house because you all were here, Italy. If one of us goes anywhere, the other goes too." he held out his right hand to Italy, sticking up his pinkie finger. Still sniffling, Italy wrapped his finger around Germany's.

Sweden, meanwhile, was still looking at Italy disconcertingly, "...W'll, if ya say it was j'st 'n accid'nt..." he trailed off, softening his gaze as he looked to Finland, " 'nd ya still h've a red spot 'n yer nose."

"I'm alright. Honest," Finland assured, pleased that Sweden didn't overreact and end up scaring Italy too much. Lord know that the poor boy couldn't handle that.

Sweden nodded, a small smile quirking up his lips. To anyone else, it would've looked just downright terrifying, but Finland had learned to read his face in the many decades they'd spent together, and offered a warm smile of his own in return.

"Ja, so, I think we're all on the same page now. 'No harm no foul', as they say," Germany cleared his throat, a hand still resting comfortingly on Italy's head.

Sweden gave a small grunt, "Y's. Th're 's no reas'n t' get viol'nt."

The two Germanic Nations leveled each other a look, as they were rather close in height, nodded silent agreement amongst each other, and headed back down the hall they'd come from. Germany's hand still on Italy's head. And Sweden's hand on his 'wife's' shoulder.

Nurse Wilson sighed in relief. She was proud of them, it was true, for it hadn't escalated into violence. She wasn't sure about Germany, as he seemed to be very intellectual and rule-savvy, but Sweden certainly looked like that type of person to get physical in a disagreement. Of course, she could be wrong, as the Swede hadn't really revealed anything about himself during his incarceration.

Smiling softly, she followed the four patients from a distance, content with just watching them.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

The rest of the day had come and gone, along with the first half of the next day. The call over the PA had some at breakfast. In some part of the Nation's minds, they'd know that the day had to come. And finally, the terrible day was_ here_ .

Enter: South Korea.

Well, in all honesty, that was just the general feel of the Commons Room. The newest patient had yet to arrive, although the team escorting him had called from the airport not even twenty minutes ago, reporting that their plane had landed without incident and they were now on course for MacFarlane's. For the patients currently residing in the hospital, it was like something had died within them. Maybe it was just their innocence.

The chairs, couch, and table were all filled with anxious Nations, waiting with a certain amount of apprehension and worry for their newest friend...if you could call it that.

"...I haven't felt so uncomfortable since the first time Italy ran in on me in the shower..." Germany mumbled, breaking the almost hypnotic silence that had taken over the inhabitants of the room.

"Pffft! When the hell did that happen?" America asked, failing horribly at stifling his laughter at the wonderful mental images in his head.

"Sometime in the forties...and then again a little while after that," Germany admitted, his face turning steadily redder. Now that he thought back on it, it sounded a lot more suggestive than he realized.

America gave an appreciative whistle, "Aaanndd? Did'ja like what you saw, Italy?"

Of course, the ever clueless Italian responded with an enthusiastic, "Sure did!", which only served to worsen America's laughter.

"That's, like, totes hilarious! Italy, why did you, like, never tell me? I thought us girlfriends tell each other everything!" Poland whined, "Although, I'd like, _never_ want to see that icky jerk naked-" a pointed glare at Germany, "-but my darling Liet? Ita, if I'd ever seen him nekked, You'd totally have been the first one I'd gossip with!"

"Kesesesese! West, I can't believe you wouldn't tell your dear older Bruder that you managed to get that little cutie into the _shower_ with you! I never thought a square like you could do it!" Prussia cackled, throwing his head back.

"Honestly, Gilbert, even if it _did_ happen like that, you'd be the _last_ person I'd tell," Germany said quite frankly.

"Oohhh snap!" Turkey injected, earning a scowl from the albino Nation.

"Ahhhh, the wonders of _l'amour_! It brings tears to my eye, to see such beauty take wing!" France spouted dramatically, "Now, be sure that you two take good care the first time you f-MPHH!"

"Can it, frog." England growled, straightening his shirt, which was now lacking the tie he had used to gag France. The rest of the posse laughed happily at France's silence.

In the far corner of the room, Nurse Wilson chuckled to herself, greatly amused with the conversation. Dr. Eticott cleared his throat, and she glanced at him. This was one of the few times that the doctor had torn himself from trying to properly diagnose the patients and actually came into the same room as them.

"Yes, Doctor?" she prompted.

"I was simply inquiring; the patients get along quite well, yes?" he asked, tired eyes scanning the fourteen patients.

"Well, generally. They have small disputes, but they are few and far between. Lovino doesn't like Ludwig, although I don't think that the hatred is returned. Both Lovino and Heracles have some sort of grudge against Sadiq. Arthur and Francis, I think, are more of a rivalry than actual hate, and I don't think that Feliks is particularly fond of Ludwig either," she sighed, "But, as you see, they get along well most of the time."

"And what of the older Vargas?" Dr. Eticott continued, "Has he improved any?"

She glanced over to Romano, who was standing forlornly by the window, leaning heavily on his crutches. He'd made progress, that was for sure. He left his room regularly and without persuasion, and he spoke (however briefly) with the others. He was still sad, it was evident, and he tried to stay away from the other patients if he could help it.

"He has," she replied, "The only thing that I'm worried about is his involvement with the others. If I may say so myself, he distances himself, sir. I don't think that he has a strong bond with anyone here, other than his brother. Not even his supposed identity interacts well with them. He feels alone."

"Hmmm..." the doctor seemed to ponder this, "And yet, it was not until his 'incident' that he acted so detached?"

"Yes."

"Have you found any reason for that?"

"Well, he did tell me that he felt worthless," she admitted, "So I'm thinking that there was something that occurred to him then that set him apart. His brother tells me, and this is only their alternate egos talking, so I can't be sure how true it is, he told me that Lovino only really had one other person he was close to. He wouldn't give me a real name, he only called him Spain. I have a gut feeling that it's something to do with him."

Dr. Eticott opened his mouth to reply, when he was silenced by a shrill beeping coming from his pocket. He withdrew his pager, sighing heavily as he looked at the extension number that was displayed on it. He excused himself and headed over to the nurse's office to use the phone inside.

No sooner had the office door closed behind the good doctor that the telltale clacking of shoes on the linoleum signal the arrival of the new patient. Of course, even if they hadn't heard the footsteps, they absolutely couldn't mistake the loud, obnoxious voice that echoed throughout the room.

"Finalyyyy! I can't wait to see Yao-yao again! He'll be so happy to have his breasts back where they originated, da ze~!" an overzealous, overjoyed voice crowed.

Every head on the room turned to look at China, expressions varying between wicked amusement and utter pity. China himself felt his stomach grow ominously heavy, and figured that this would be the best time to kiss his sanity goodbye...but then again, he had to remember Finland's advice. He needed to be more accepting of his siblings for who they were. Even if who they were was an insane, handsy teenager.

Korea burst into the room, absolutely bursting with unbridled joy. His wide brown eyes immediately latched onto his beloved older brother, and in a matter of seconds, so did his entire body.

"ANIKIIII~! I missed you so much, da ze!" Korea exclaimed, practically squeezing the life out of his dear sibling. The teen's grabby hands somehow managed to find their way to China's chest, "I missed your breasts too! Because they undoubtedly originated in Korea!"

"H-hello, Korea..." China choked out, face going red both from the lack of oxygen and the embarrassment he was suffering at the hands of his younger sibling. He _knew_ that it was America he could hear guffawing at him from the crowd of Nations!

"Y-yo! Long time no see, Korea!" America called out between laughs, holding up a hand, "How've you been keeping?"

Successfully distracted, Korea loosened his hold on China, who gasped for breath. Smiling brightly, Korea turned his attention to America, giving him a high-five.

"America! Awesome to see you here too, da ze! Reunions like this obviously originated in Korea!"

The conversations and welcomes went on from there, each Nation voicing themselves to their new hospital-mate.

Nurse Wilson, however, was taken aback by the new patient. Why, he couldn't have been any more than sixteen years old! He wouldn't even have been done with highschool yet. Until then, Matthew had been the youngest patient, and he was still a registered adult at eighteen years. If the Korean was truly as young as he looked, then she supposed that there really was no connection between the ages of the patients.

The attending doctor from Korea approached her with a pleasant smile on his face, offering her a plain manila envelope, undoubtedly containing the full profile of the Korean patient. She thanked him politely and took it, opening the flap and sliding out the profile.

**Im Yong Soo, "Korea"**

**Age: **15

**Gender: **Male

**Height: **5'3"

**Birthday: **August 15th

**Hair Color: **Black

**Eye Color:** Brown

She flipped through the rest of the pages briefly, not even noticing when Dr. Eticott emerged from the office and stood behind her, looking at the profile over her shoulder.

"Anything out of the ordinary?" he asked, causing her to jump a little. The Korean doctor chuckled amusedly, but hurriedly caught himself lest he be thought of as impolite.

"No, not so far as I can tell. It's just like with the others, except his symptoms didn't appear until more recently," she reported, flipping the pages back together and replacing them in the envelope.

"I see," He nodded, "As it is, I feel that this is the perfect time to make my announcement. If you'll excuse me, Ms. Wilson, Dr. Gook."

As the doctor made his way toward the group of Nations, the atmosphere seemed to have lightened considerably. As it was, Korea didn't turn out to have nearly as much energy as they were dreading (oh, the beauty of jetlag) and was now quite placated.

"Excuse me, gentlemen. I'd like to make an announcement," he spoke, his tone showing that he was a no-nonsense man when it came to his line of work, "But first, for those of you who had yet to meet me, I am Dr. Eticott, the head psychiatrist at this institution. It is a pleasure to meet you and I look forward to working with you all in the future."

"Are you gonna cut us open? Like for lobos...l...lupis...no, that's not it...lobbymees?" Korea blabbered, looking at the doctor with avid curiosity.

"Lobotomies? Certainly not, young man. I simply would like to get to know you all better. Now, as I was saying before, I received a phone call from my administrator in central DC a few minutes ago, and I think that this is as good a time as ever to inform you all that we will be expecting the next patient to arrive in three days."

"Already?" England asked, "It's been a while since we've heard of anyone else; nearly two weeks."

"Right you are, Mr. Kirkland," Dr. Eticott agreed, missing the annoyed twitch of England's eyebrow as the man spoke his name, "Though I am quick to put this all to circumstance."

"Wh's it th'n?" Sweden asked, adjusting his glasses as he looked at the smaller man.

"Who is it then?" Finland translated, figuring that the doctor would have a hard time understanding the Swede's mumbling.

"I've been told that the next patient of your genre to come forward is a Mr. Vash Zwingli, from Bern, Switzerland." the doctor said, quirking an eyebrow as the aura of dread came back to the room much quicker than it had left it.

In the end, it was Italy who voiced everyone's thoughts, clearly thinking of the horrible things in the past that involved Switzerland, rifles, and a lack of pants.

"Veeee...we are _so_ dead."

**-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-**

***sobs* This took far too long to write...**

**Translations:**

**"Prusse" - "Prussia"**

**"l'amour" - "love"**

**"bien sur, mon cher ami" - "of course, my dear friend"**

**"Italie" - "Italy"**

**"Mon Dieu" - "My God"**

**"J'en suis sur" - "I'm sure of it"**

**Hey, you know how a lot of people shorten the names of their fics to just the first letter of all the words? Well...I can't do that. 'Cause you know what, Folie A Plusiers shortens its name to FAP. Yes, FAP. *bows head in shame* fapfapfapfapfapfap.**

******Remember to leave reviews, my lovelies!**


	14. Treize: Cauchemar

**Happy Easter, everyone! I've finally been cradled back into the warm, electronic busom of technology! It's been since what, November?**

**I would really like to apologise. Thankfully, money was finally made to get me a nice, shiny new laptop that actually WORKS! And a damn good thing too; my IT guy said that the old one was kaput; even the hard drive was garbage.**

**ALSO; I've kinda fixed up and reposted all the old chapters, since fanfic hates my line breaks.**

**So, after half a year with no laptop, I can FINALLY bring you chapter 13! Enjoy!**

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

******_Folie à Plusiers_**

Treize: Cauchemar

_Thirteen: Nightmare_

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

The day started off on a high note for England. He'd managed to get a nice nine hours of sleep before he was awoken by one of his friends; a kindly little sprite. They were real, no matter what blockheads like America and France said. She'd tapped him lightly on the nose, saying that she and her sisters were worried about him being locked up in this place. He'd told her not to worry, that it wasn't as bad as it seemed. She looked sad, but flew off, disappearing through the wall.

Anyways, the sun was just beginning to filter in through the barred window of the room. It gave the area a pleasant glow, but it was still undermined by the fact that there were BARS on the window. The rooms in the hospital, pleasant as they were, were clearly not meant to give their inhabitants the illusion of 'normalcy'. The bars on the windows were one thing, but the fact that the doors had no handle on the inside and swung inward certainly gave the room a prison-like air.

"You're up early, eh..." Canada's voice came from the other side of the room. England's mind blanched for a few seconds, although he quickly covered it up with a noncommittal grunt. Unfortunately, the other party seemed to notice his confusion. "Really, England...you'd think after spending so long in here you'd actually remember me, eh. It's Canada, remember?"

CLICK. Oh, right. There is was. "Ah. Of course, I beg your pardon. I really don't know why that keeps happening."

"Yeah. The only people who ever consistently remember me are France and Prussia... and America usually. It depends with him." Canada sighed, running a hand through his shoulder-length hair and wincing when his fingers caught on a knot, "Eugh...I'm definitely getting first dibs on the shower this morning."

England chuckled, "What are you doing up so early Canada? It can't be later than seven."

"Eh, I just couldn't sleep. It's nothing," Canada shrugged, "Actually, I think that Alfred was kicking the wall in his sleep. Probably dreaming of some epic battle or something."

"Ch...It wouldn't surprise me. That boy's head is filled with nothing but superheroes and hamburgers!" England snorted.

"No kidding eh?" Canada chuckled, "But he's not all bad. He doesn't mean to come off as… well, as Alfred."

"No, I suppose you're right," he sighed, scratching the back of his head absently, "Hell, I raised the two of you. Sadly, you were the only one who grew up, apparently."

Canada sighed, swinging his feet off the edge of his bed so that he was facing England better, "That's not true, England. I think it's because he grew up too fast. Think about it; how long did it take for Alfred to grow up? Ten years? Fifteen? He was independent nearly a century before I was! He never got a chance to properly mature."

England frowned, "He didn't have to grow up so bloody fast. I left one day and returned to find that my tiny little brother was bigger than I would ever be…"

"Do you still think like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like Alfred and I are your little brothers? Children who you have to protect? We've grown up, Arthur. Do you think that maybe, just maybe, you could… I dunno, try to see us as friends or something?" Canada asked, looking at England beseechingly. The former empire paused, staring hard at the floor.

"I… I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give it a go. After all, it's not like either of you need a big brother anymore," he admitted, a small smile tweaking at the edges of his lips.

Canada smiled, "I'm glad," he said, being truly sincere, "Now, what do you say we wake up Alfred and France? I'm sure they could chat for a half-hour or so before we're let out."

"After you," England smirked.

Canada laughed lightly and placed his head close to the wall, directly at the spot where America's head would be laying.

"Frère Alfred, frère Alfred, dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?—" he began, quite loudly considering the usual register of Canada's voice.

A miserable groan answered him through the wall, "Ugghhh, shut the fuck up, Mattie…"

"Love you too, Al," Canada rolled his eyes.

"Well, I don't love _you_ when you sing creepy French songs in my ear at stupid o'clock in the morning!" America whined, his voice slightly muffled by the thin wall between them.

"Hey, all French songs are absolutely sublime!" France's voice interjected, "Even the old little nursery rhymes, oui?"

"Frog, anything that passes through your lips is nothing short of an abomination," England replied, though his face held no malice.

"Seriously, _why _is everyone awake so early?" America whined, followed by the sound of his head hitting his pillow rather violently.

"And a good morning to you too, you great oaf," England said sarcastically.

And so, the day had begun.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Breakfast seemed livelier than it had in weeks. It was the first day that South Korea had joined them, due to a few unmentionable shenanigans involving the young Asian and the vital regions of countless others.

Although, Sweden noticed as he watched the new arrival from across the crowded room, the scolding he had received didn't seem to sink in. He and Finland were at their own table today, after Finland mentioned something about 'wanting to see how China handled himself'.

"Y' see 'nythin' interestin' yet?" he asked his smaller counterpart, who was watching the morning unfold like a patient mother hen. Finland nodded, a smile worming its way across his face.

"I told China to give Korea a chance; so far, he's not doing half bad," Finland replied, touching his fork to his lips in thought, "The kid almost reminds me of Denmark."

Sweden frowned, which really didn't affect the natural look of his face much. He and Denmark didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to getting along. In his own defence, he thought it was because Denmark was just too damn pushy and excitable.

"Oh, come on Sve, don't give me that look," Finland admonished. Sweden smiled inwardly at how well the smaller country could read him, "I don't mean anything by it; just try imagining Den as a touchy-feely teenager!"

"F'nland, y' f'rget tha we both _knew _D'nm'rk 's a teenag'r," he mumbled. Finland laughed under his breath, his violet eyes twinkling with mirth. Sweden felt the corners of his lips twitch up at the sound.

"And what a time that was," Finland sighed, "It makes me feel like an old man. Dear god, all the nostalgia…"

"Y'r not old," Sweden stated. He never liked it when Finland spoke about himself like that. After all, this was his wife that he was talking about. He never looked anything less than perfect.

"Sweet," Finland murmured, "But then again, what exactly _is_ old? It's not like we haven't seen the better part of millenniums, right? Maybe it's not age; it's just experience!"

Sweden didn't exactly have anything to say to that. Existential conundrums were better left untouched by him; with his fluctuating self-esteem, things were bound to get mucked up if he dabbled in them.

Finland continued his thought anyway, "It's good to be with friends though… all of us. Could you imagine what it would be like if you were all alone forever?" he laughed, "Wow, my thoughts really go off on a tangent sometimes! I really am glad you're here though, even if I was scared of you at first." he leant forward in his chair, resting his arms on the table on either side of his plate.

"'m gl'd too," Sweden offered, placing his hand on the table so that it brushed the side of Finland's.

The smile he received was enough to brighten his entire day.

"AHAHAHAHA!" and yet the serenity of the moment was killed quicker then it began by America's obnoxious laughter echoing through the room.

Apparently, China hadn't been able to maintain his cool head, and had given Korea a shove to keep him away from his 'breasts'. Unfortunately, Korea stumbled backwards and caught his ankle on France's chair, causing the two of them to tumble to the floor. And Korea, ever the opportunist, forced his hands up France's shirt… which, sadly, the other didn't seem to mind.

America, who had been sitting as the same table as France, found this all hilarious.

"Ah, I guess he wasn't able to hold it..." Finland laughed, covering his mouth with a hand so as not to appear insensitive.

Sweden couldn't really see how this was amusing. Sure, it was always fun to watch France in unfortunate situations, since no one really liked him, but times of 'unified laughter' always confused him. Maybe he just didn't have a good sense of humour.

So, as usual, he sat there with his impassively concerned face.

The nurses had to come over to get Korea off of France, since neither of them seemed to be in a hurry to move. Laughing wildly, Korea returned to his seat beside China, apparently placated for the time being. France was the only one who seemed disappointed as he picked up his chair and went back to his table.

"Alright guys, settle yourselves down," nurse Wilson admonished, although she was smiling slightly. Walking to the centre of the room, she placed a hand on Greece's shoulder (he had fallen asleep on the table barely five minutes after arriving for breakfast) before speaking again, "Now, as you all know, our new patient will be arriving today—" a chorus of mumbles, "—now come on, don't give me that."

"Please!" Prussia scoffed, "Do you even know who we're gonna be dealing with, lady? Ach, not even the Amazing Me gets on die Schweiz's bad side! Not that I'm afraid, of course…"

"As much as it pains me to admit," England rolled his eyes, "He's right. Switzerland isn't exactly the most level-headed of us."

"B'd temp'r," Sweden agreed.

"Be that as it may," nurse Wilson held up a hand to gain the floor, "Please, don't make so much of a fuss over it. He won't even get here until lunchtime, and you have free time until then. The entire lower floor is open for your use, so don't abuse the privilege."

The first one out of the room was Canada, still dead-set on getting to the showers first. He was followed shortly by Romano, who was walking surprisingly fast for someone on crutches, but was still passed by Poland, who _also _wanted the showers.

"Geh, 's just another boring day in this boring trap," Turkey grumbled, his chair screeching against the floor as he stood up, idling out of the room and out of sight.

"C'mon West, let's go see of there's anything interesting to do in this place! France, you're my wingman, get your ass over here!" Prussia cackled, dragging a protecting Germany along with him. France sighed and flipped his hair dramatically before trotting (sauntering, actually) after them.

"Vee! Germany, don't leave, wait for me!" Italy shouted after them, nearly tripping over his chair in his hurry to chase after them. Nurse Wilson caught his arm as he passed.

"Hold on a second, Italy," she said, her grip on his bicep stopping him from tearing after Germany, "I need your help with your brother."

This caught Italy's attention, "With Romano? Ve, how can I help?" he turned his brown eyes, wide with hope, back to her face.

"I want you to talk to him, and see if you can get him to open up to you."

"…I don't think that would work. Fratello never tells me anything, he just gets mad at me…" Italy trailed off, gaze redirecting to the floor.

"That's why I'm going to help you out," she assured, "You just have to sympathise with him, and let him know that you understand what he's feeling."

"Ve, do you really think that will work?" Italy asked, although his voice didn't carry his usual cheery tone.

"I hope it will," she winked at him, "Now, what do you say we give it a try, hm? Romano's up in your room right now."

Italy nodded, following the nurse out of the cafeteria. Doubt still shadowed over him; his brother never listened to him. They had never really gotten along in the first place, even as children. Why would Romano want to talk to him now, of all times? But then again, the kind nurse said that she'd help him; she was really nice for a human.

Italy frowned a little. How many humans had he really met? Sure, there was his boss; everyone knew their boss, but it wasn't really a 'knowing' sort of relationship. He'd met bishops and priests and officials, and of course all of the girls that he flirted with, but he couldn't think of a single time where he had actually befriended a human.

He guessed that, out side of their governments, none of the Nations really knew what humans were like.

Maybe Romano felt like that around all of the other Nations. Italy was daft, not oblivious; he knew that Romano wasn't a very social person. Besides Spain and Belgium, Romano didn't even visit other Nations, and he wasn't every involved in politics. Ever since they had unified, Romano had taken the back seat to Veneziano. Even though technically, Rome lied in Romano's jurisdiction.

Maybe he just felt overlooked. Italy wanted to change that.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"F-fratello..? Fratello, can I come in?" Italy squeaked as he inched the door to their room open, peeking in to see that Romano was curled up in his bed. He didn't get an answer, so he pushed the door the rest of the way and stepped in, followed by Nurse Wilson.

"Romano, it's nurse Wilson," she announced herself, closing the door behind her, "Your brother is really worried about you."

A mumbled, "Don't fucking care" came from the bundle of blankets. Italy felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and he took a choked breath.

"Fratello, you're scaring me," he confessed, voice breaking, "It's been three weeks, and you've barely spoken a word to me. I want to know why you're hurting so much!"

"…why would you care?" Romano replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Why?" Italy repeated incredulously, "Because I love you! You're my brother! You're the only person in the world that I'm related to by blood, and you're the only one I ever _will_ be related to!"

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't _want _to be hanging off of you?" Romano spat, sitting upright, "Perfect little Veneziano! You always get what you want because _everyone_ loves you and _no one_ can bare to deny you!"

"What?" Italy gaped, shocked, "Romano…do you really believe that?" the tears were running freely down his face now, shocked and saddened at the look of outrage across his older brother's face.

"Why wouldn't I? Tell me, Veneziano, how many times have you actually had to fend for yourself during war? Once, twice?" Romano challenged, fixing Italy with a glare.

"W-well, mayb—"

"_And_ who, might I ask, came running to your rescue every. Single. Fucking. Time?" Romano shouted, not even waiting for a response before he shouted, "Germany! That motherfucking potato bastard!"

"You're always being mean to Germany!" Italy cried, shouting back for the first time, "This isn't about him, Romano! This is about you and me!"

"It's ALWAYS about him! It's about him and how he's always doing everything for you while I get left in the goddamn dust!" Romano's voice was hoarse from yelling, but no tears fell from his eyes.

"Well what about you?" Italy retorted. He'd never been so angry or frustrated in all his centuries of life, "You do the exact same thing!"

"What the fuck are you going on about!" Romano growled, standing up from his bed, leaning heavily on his uninjured foot. His face was blotchy and red, his face twisted in an ugly snarl.

"You get hurt, and you run to Spain!" Italy shouted, "Get rejected; you run to Spain! Lose a stupid football game, and guess what fratello? You run to Spain!" he ranted, mind so clouded with emotions that he didn't even notice how Romano flinched each and every time Spain was mentioned, his face slowly losing its anger.

"F-fuck you…" Romano choked, raising his arms up in front of himself as a defence mechanism, "You don't have a damn c-clue what you're talking about, you jerk…"

Italy stopped, slapping a hand over his mouth like he couldn't believe what had just come out of it. He'd never yelled at his brother before! And now, he could see the pain and hurt swimming in Romano's hazel eyes. He'd never wanted to make him cry. He never would have opened his mouth about Spain if he'd known.

This was all about Spain.

"Fratello…" Italy whispered, his voice soft and fragile, "Fratello, I'm so sorry… I should have known, but I'm just so stupid…"

"J-just stop…" Romano shook his head, his gaze glued to the floor, "I can't fucking take it."

Stepping forward, Italy wound his arms around his brother's shoulders, pulling him into an embrace. Romano choked on a sob, leaning his head down onto Italy's shoulder. He didn't even have the will to push him away. He just felt so tired, and so used up, he couldn't handle it anymore.

"I'm so sorry," Italy repeated, "I'm sure he's looking for you. He'll find you, Romano, I know he will, so please don't cry, ve."

Nurse Wilson sat on Italy's bed, staring at the brothers in shock. She had expected a bit of turbulence between them, but nothing like what she had just witnessed. Romano had expressed a feeling of envy and self-loathing that she hadn't seen outside of patients with inferiority complexes, and Italy had proved that he could be assertive when provoked. Although she couldn't be sure if that was just because Germany was being insulted; he did seem to be attached to the man.

Watching the brothers cry and hug each other, she couldn't help but wish she still kept her notebook with her, and instantly felt ashamed. She was a nurse, and her first priority was the wellbeing of her patients. She wasn't a doctor, and while the case had initially piqued her interest, now she felt that she was more of a mediator, between the patients and the doctoral staff of the hospital.

She just hoped that she would be able to help them if push ever came to shove; she knew that some of the administrators weren't happy with how little was being done about properly diagnosing and treating the patients.

She really hoped that push _wouldn't_ come to shove.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Italy escorted Romano down to the commons room a couple of hours later, after they had cried themselves dry. They felt better, somehow, after they had gotten their row off of their chests. Like a weight had been lifted. There was no longer the tense air surrounding the two, and Romano's eyes were back in focus, not staring blankly into space.

"You doing alright?" Italy asked, helping Romano over to a chair by a window.

"Fine," Romano replied, but despite his short reply, he sounded genuine, "You don't have to hang around me all the time. People will worry about you. I don't need a little brat like you keeping me company anyway," he have a cheeky smirk, showing that he didn't mean anything by the insult.

"If you're sure!" Italy laughed, skipping over to where Germany was having a discussion with Turkey. The latter of the two had taken a piece of construction paper from the room across the hall and ripped eyeholes in it, which sadly, didn't look very becoming on his face.

"Ciao Germany, Turkey!" he called, grabbing Germany's arm, "What're you guys talking about?"

"Che, nothin'," Turkey mumbled, edging away from Italy, "I was just gunna leave anyway."

"Ve, Germany, I don't think that Turkey likes me very much," Italy sighed as the other Mediterranean country turned tail and stalked away from them, "I try to by friendly, I really do! Am I not good at it?"

"Nein, Italy, you are friendly enough," Germany said, putting emphasis on the word, _enough_, "Turkey is just quirky. Didn't you kick him in the face a long time ago?"

"Uhhhh…" Italy stuck his tongue out in thought, "Oh yeah! He was invading my controlled sea space though, so I didn't really have a choice! How was I supposed to know his navy wasn't as strong as mine? Besides, it was a really long time ago!"

"Some people tend to hang on to their grudges," Germany advised, "Maybe you should just give him space…" he glanced over his shoulder as he spoke, "And speaking of people holding on to grudges…"

"Ah, salut," France sighed as he sidled over to the two, "Not putting horrendous thoughts into sweet little Italy's head are you, Germany?"

"Gott in Himmel, France," Germany swore, bringing a hand up to massage his forehead, "Can't we all just agree that the wars are _over_ and go on with our lives?"

"Oui, that would be lovely," France agreed, "But then again, is it really safe to go on with your life knowing that some brute of a country could occupy you at any moment?"

Italy was confused, and it was evident on his face, "Ve? Why are we talking about occupation? We're not at war again, are we?"

"No, of course not," France put on an innocent face, "All is as peaceful as it could ever be. Now, if the two of you would excuse me, I believe that there is a stodgy Englishman whom I need to, erm, _consort_ with." He bid them a quick adieu before striding across to where England was, once again, trying to read a book in peace.

"That was quick," Italy commented, still confused.

"Thankfully," Germany agreed, "Would you like to look through some of the other rooms? I'm sure that we could find somewhere for you to paint."

"Sì, That'd be fun!" Italy smiled, "We can ask one of the nurses if they can find us some paint!"

"If you'd like," Germany nodded, "Come on, there's one just across the hallway, by the next room."

He gestured out the open doorway to where a brown-haired lady was facing away from them, apparently watching over Greece, who was asleep in the next room, surrounded by cats. Germany thought it odd that so many animals would be allowed inside a psychiatric hospital. Shouldn't there have been rules about sanitation?

"Excuse me, ma'am," Germany called out, leading Italy out of the commons room. The nurse turned around, offering a small smile to the two. Italy gave a small gasp as he peered at the shorter woman.

"What happened to your face?" he asked in awe, whining at the elbow that Germany planted in his stomach for his insensitivity.

"What, this?" she asked, gesturing to a thin scar that ran along the left side of her face, "Well, let's just say that there used to be a lot less rules about what patients could or couldn't keep with them. Now, you wanted to ask me a question?"

Italy and Germany chuckled nervously. They couldn't really tell if she was joking about the scar or not, but they supposed that either way, it was creepy enough.

"Erm, ja," Germany faltered, "I was wondering if there was anywhere for us to paint, or perhaps draw? Italy is a very good artist, and there isn't much else to do," he finished awkwardly, hardly used to asking humans for anything.

"Yeah, there's a bunch of arts stuff set up in the second room on the right," she gestured futher down the hallway, "There's no one else in there right now, but if you need me just give me a shout; I'll be out here."

"Thank you very much, Ms…" he glanced at the name card on the front of her shirt, "Ms. Roiyce."

"You're welcome."

"Let's go Italy," Germany said, "You can paint, and we can be back with the others by the time Switzerland arrives."

Italy smiled brightly, "Alright!"

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"So, is there like, a point to this game? 'Cause I think it's, like, totes _boring_," Poland complained looking back and forth between China and Greece, who was been awoken earlier to await the arrival of the newest patient with everyone else.

"There is a point to everything, aru," China answered, pulling a Jenga piece out of the tower with utmost concentration.

"But it's boring! You build a tower, and then you just, like, take it back apart!" Poland continued, crossing his legs so that he could rest his elbows on them.

"It takes… patience," Greece amended, pulling another piece out without causing the tower to even tremble, "I suppose we're just old-fashioned," he set the piece down on top on the tower and reached behind himself to pet the cat curled up there.

"Aiyah, that makes me sound like an old man, aru," China huffed, "I may be the oldest, but that does not make me _old_."

"Nah, just like, a few millennia, right?" Poland rolled his eyes, causing China to sigh haughtily, "Yo, Italy, have the nurses said anything about, y'know, when Switz is gonna, like, get here?"

Italy, who had since returned from painting with Germany, shrugged, "No, they didn't tell me anything, but they should be here any minute…" his voice was laced with apprehension.

"Laaaaaame!"

"C'mon guys, it's not that bad!" America exclaimed from the table where he was playing slapjack with Korea and Canada, "At least it's not so hot out anymore!"

Everyone mumbled in agreement.

"See, America's right," Italy nodded, leaning on the couch, "It could always be worse, right? Ve, at least here, we can sing and eat and talk and be happy!"

"Hey everyone, the cars just pulled in!" Finland called, looking out a window.

"Finally!" Poland exclaimed, "I was totally beginning to think that, like, they'd crashed or something."

"I really do hope that they took all firearms away from him…or that they at least frisked him for hidden weapons," England muttered, already thinking of the horrors that awaited them.

Sure enough, from down the hallway came voices, loud, familiar, and not very impressed.

"_What do you MEAN, she's not here!_" Switzerland's voice snapped, _"Why are you here instead of our looking for her, then! She's my sister!"_

"_Sir, I'm sure that your sister is just fine. I promise you that we'll keep looking, and if we find here, you'll be the first to know, Mr. Zwingli," _a second voice, presumably the accompanying doctor, replied. The footsteps were audible now as they drew closer.

Italy blinked. Was he just hearing things, or… oh no. He looked over to Romano, who didn't seem to be paying attention to the people approaching the room; he was still sitting in his chair, reading a book on his lap.

Switzerland was the first one to reach the room, stomping his way inside quite angrily. His blonde hair was slightly windswept, like someone had been tugging at it in frustration.

"Have ANY of you seen Liechtenstein?" he demanded, pointing a finger at the general populous, looking just as intimidating as he usually did when accompanied by a large gun.

The accompanying doctor walked in behind him, scratching at his brown hair. Wearing a tired smile, he placed a hand on Switzerland's shoulder, "Sorry guys, but you'll have to put up with his questions from now on," he chuckled, before walking past to deliver his files to nurse Wilson.

Rather than answering the livid blonde's question, the rest of the Nations stared at the doctor as he walked away, eyes wide. Switzerland, spinning himself around to bee what everyone was looking at, shrugged, "I know! I don't really understand it either."

Italy's gaze quickly jumped back to Romano. Still reading. Good. Something was obviously very wrong here. Very, very wrong.

'_But he was just starting to get better…'_

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"Here's the file for Mr. Zwingli," the doctor said as he handed the files, tucked inside a manila envelope, to nurse Wilson.

"Thank you," she smiled at the man. He seemed to speak much better English than any of the other foreign doctors. Sliding the first sheet out, she skimmed over the information:

**Vash Zwingli, "Switzerland"**

**Age:** 18

**Gender:** Male

**Height:** 5'6"

**Birthday:** August 1

**Hair Colour:** Blonde

**Eye Colour:** Green

"I hope you have a capable staff," the doctor said good-heartedly, "He can be quite a handful, especially when he gets on a mood about his little sister," his voice had a hint of an accent that she couldn't place.

"He has a sister?" she asked, tucking the file back under her arm.

"No. He has one brother, Markus, but so sister. It was another symptom that didn't appear until after he had switched personas," he explained, rubbing his fingers around the rims of his green eyes, which were heavy with jetlag, "I'm very sorry, ma'am, it was a long flight. I will go to see the head doctor and maybe catch up on some shuteye before getting back to work."

"Of course," nurse Wilson nodded, "You're staying to oversee the patients, then?"

"Yes, it's an amazing occurrence," he admitted, "Not many doctors get opportunities like this in their careers."

"I wish you all the best then, sir."

The doctor offered her his hand, which she shook gladly. Bidding her a simple farewell, he turned around and made his way to leave the room, when the worst possible situation happened.

Romano looked up from his book.

Immediately, Italy ran to his side, "No, fratello, wait, I don't think—"

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" Romano shouted, voice half full of anger, half of shock. He stood up, grabbing a crutch to support himself. The rest of the Nations stood in silence, all still too confused to try and make sense of the situation (save for Switzerland, who simply wanted to see how things would play out).

The doctor stopped on his trek out of the room, turning with a look of confusion to look at Romano, whose face was beginning to turn an angry shade of red. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his lab coat, making no moves toward the Italian.

"You fucking heard me!" Romano continued, limping over so that he stood only a few feet away from the befuddled doctor, "Where the hell have you been, Spain, you bastard?"

The doctor remained silent for a few seconds, looking lost and vaguely uncomfortable with the eyes of the entire room fixed on him in shock, "I beg your pardon, I am not Spain, I'm a doctor who assisted in Mr. Zwingli's transfer—"

"Don't you fucking bullshit me, Antonio!" Romano snapped, causing the doctor's eyes to go wide, "There's no fucking way you don't know me! We lived together for centuries, you bastard!"

"I-I have no idea how you know my name, but…this has to be some kind of misunderstanding. I've never met you in my entire life."

The silence in the room was suffocating.

******-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-**

**My new laptop has a CANADIAN setting for Spellcheck! FINALLY I can spell 'colour' and 'organise' without spellcheck being all SDBIHFDBVG,NO! *tears of happiness***

***Ms. Roiyce belongs to CC Sakura, sorry I couldn't fit her into a bigger part!**

**Translations:**

"**Frère Alfred, frère Alfred, dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?" = "Brother Alfred, Brother Alfred, are you sleeping? Are you sleeping?" (the English Nursery Rhyme plays "are you sleeping, are you sleeping, brother John, brother John?")**

"**Die Schweiz" = "Switzerland" (German. I'm still not sure why it needs an article in front of it, but it does. They must be important!)**

"**Salut" = "Hi" or "Hello"**

"**Gott in Himmel" = "God in Heaven" (like how we would say, "oh, Jesus Christ!")**

******I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH! THIS STORY REALLY DOESN'T DESERVE ALL THE REVIEWS IT GETS, I MEAN IT!**


	15. Quatorze: Coulez ou Nagez

**Here you are folks, the first scheduled update that I've actually been able to make! DUNUNUUUNNN.**

**I've decided to split what was originally going to be this chapter into 2 different ones. It was gonna be way too long otherwise. The next chapter will by posted next weekend! (my mom is really getting on my ass about not finishing my homework, so weekends will be the prime updating times for me.**

**Also, this would have been prettied-p and updated yesterday, but life was all like NOPE and gave me a migraine. I couldn't even **_**look**_** at a computer without crying in pain.**

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

_**Folie à Plusiers**_

Quatorze: Coulez ou Nagez

_Fourteen: Sink or Swim_

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"I-I have no idea how you know my name, but…this has to be some kind of misunderstanding. I've never met you in my entire life," the doctor stuttered, his eyes wide.

Romano faltered, doubt beginning to creep onto his face, "No, I'm right. There's no fucking way I could mistake you for someone else," he shook his head, "You _are_ Spain. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. You freakin' _raised_ me!"

"But how…" the 'not Spain' trailed off, "Do I know you from somewhere? Why do you know who I am?"

"Hey, w-what the hell's going on?" America asked, stepping out from the group of Nations that had congregated, "Why doesn't he recognise us?"

"I don't get this!" Korea cried, looking distressed, "Aniki, what's wrong with Spain?" he asked, latching on to China's arm, apparently with no intention of mischief.

"…I'm just as confused as the rest of you, aru," China confessed. He took a few tentative steps toward the doctor, "Do you really not remember any of us?"

The doctor's green eyes glanced quickly from one patient to the next, "I have no clue who any of you are!"

"What the _fuck_ is going on here?" Romano screamed, looking over toward the nurses in the room, "Can someone please tell me what's going on before I go even crazier!"

"Ve, Romano!" Italy grabbed his brother around the waist, "Please, calm down! Something is wrong here!"

Nurse Wilson looked between the people in the room. Romano, being restrained by Italy, looked like he was on the verge of a complete explosion, while the rest of the patients wore varying expressions of confusion, concern, or horror. The doctor himself looked the most concerned of all.

England spoke, "Switzerland, did you know? Can you perhaps tell us what the bloody fuck this is all about?" he looked considerably more composed than the others, although his tone of voice was obviously distressed.

"I never figured it out," Switzerland shook his head, "He was already at the hospital when the humans took me there. I figured that it was just a strange coincidence, like how sometimes our citizens look a bit like us. As far as I know, that guy is a human."

"You guys are freaking joking, right?" Prussia asked, chucking nervously, "Seriously, how could he _not_ be Spain?"

"Tu as raison," France nodded, "We've known him far too long to be mistaken, haven't we, Prusse? Young Romano as well."

"I still haven't gotten a fucking answer!" Romano yelled, glaring right at the doctor, "Are you Spain, or fucking aren't you! Answer me, bastardo!"

"No, I already told you!" he replied, "I'm not Spain! I'm from Madrid, but I haven't even been back to the country in five years!" he shook his head, looking back toward Nurse Wilson for help.

"But maybe…." Canada took a few steps backwards, a look of fear washing over his features, "I told you guys! The doctors said that we used to be different, too! Maybe we were like this before, too; that's why we can't remember anything past a few months ago!"

"N-no fucking way," America denied, "Mattie, that's not right! There's no way that we…"

"…It certainly makes the most sense," Germany said, his posture tense, "I don't want to believe it either, but…that is definitely Spain," he gestured to the doctor, "And there is no way that we're all mistaken about ourselves."

"What then?" Romano barked, spinning around to look at the other Nations, "This is all just a fucking lie? Everything that we fucking _know_ never happened, _history _never happened, and we're just humans who lost their goddamned marbles?"

"Everyone, please calm down!" Nurse Wilson called out, walking over to stand beside the brown-haired doctor, "I promise you, we'll figure everything out. Please, take a seat while I escort Dr. Carriedo out to talk to Dr. Eticott. Worrying too much is only going to make everyone more upset."

"It's not exactly that simple, madam," France replied, "We are all a little upset over this little revelation, can you blame us?" he nervously wound a lock of golden hair around his finger.

"I understand," she said calmly, "And we'll figure it out. But unless I can take your friend here to see Dr. Eticott, this could go on longer. Are you all okay here while I'm gone?" she really did hate to be leaving them in such a state, but it was the only thing she could do in the situation.

The group grudgingly nodded, all except for Romano, whom Italy had ushered over to the corner, and was whispering rapidly to him in what Nurse Wilson assumed was Italian. Casting a sad glance at the two brothers, she placed a hand on Dr. Carriedo's shoulder and led him toward the door.

"Come along. We'll see if we can get this all sorted out," she whispered, closing the door behind her as they exited.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

As the door shut with an ominous _click_, the remaining Nations in the room looked amongst themselves, wearing looks of obvious discomfort, brows furrowed and mouths drawn tight.

"So has anyone here been able to figure out what's happened to us?" Switzerland asked, frowning, "I woke up one morning, not in my own house, with no clue what I'd been doing before that, and my sister is gone!"

"Yes, it's been the same for the rest of us," Finland spoke up, his voice quiet, "Although now… I'm not sure what to believe."

Sweden placed a hand on Finland's shoulder, his own frown increased threefold in his worry, "N'thing makes s'nse 'nymore," he agreed.

America wound one arm around Canada's shoulders, who was shaking considerably, "I still don't understand this. There's no way that this isn't real; that everything we know isn't real," he said firmly, "If any of you wants to think that this is all a dream, and you're gonna wake up any second now, you can just leave, because that's stupid."

"The brat's got 'er right," Turkey agreed, scratching at his hair anxiously, "We've already been here fer wha', almost three months fer some 'a us? I figure tha' if something were gunna happen, it'd have dun it already."

"But like, how do we _know_?" Poland whined, "If Spain doesn't remember us now, how do we know that he ever will?"

"Ssshh!" Prussia hissed, "Do you want Romano hearing that?" he glanced to the Italians huddled on the corner, "As much as I dislike the unawesome little shit, he doesn't need that."

"I agree," Germany nodded, "You all know that I don't have the best relationship with Romano, but I think we all realise that if Spain doesn't ever remember us, Romano will lose his mind. Besides, if we were all like that in the beginning too; we remembered, didn't we? For all we know, the fact that he _doesn't_ remember us is the problem in the first place!"

"You think that something happened to us to make us forget?" Korea asked, quirking and eyebrow at the shocked faces he received, "Hey! I can pay attention too!"

"Ja, something like that," Germany confirmed, "We all know who we are, there can be no mistake in that, so I think that, if we can safely assume that we were all like Spain in the beginning, we suffered a lapse in time where we lived like humans."

"But, what could do that, aru?" China asked, worrying his thumbnail with his teeth, "Natural disaster?"

"Unlikely," England frowned, "If that could do it, we'd be amnesiacs every century, and this has certainly never happened before, to my knowledge."

"Nor to mine, ahen," China amended. England's eyebrow twitched at the subtle change in verbal tics.

"Maybe we should all just… take a nap," Greece suggested, speaking up for the first time. He sighed at the strange faces directed at him, "Not literally. Just not worry about it. There will be plenty of time to fret in the future, but tearing our hair out over it now won't help anyone, and it also won't help Spain remember us."

"So…we're in agreement that Spain will remember?" Finland asked, "I mean, if _we_ did, then there's no reason why he shouldn't, right? Do you think that there was some sort of trigger?"

"You mean like something made us remember?" America asked, "I can't remember anything! I just woke up one morning, and I was me again!"

"Same here," England sighed, scratching his head, "Nothing in particular sticks out from when I woke up either."

"I woke up one mornin' on a bench without my mask on," Turkey shrugged, "So I went out an' I bought one; tha' was 'bout a week before they arrested me fer 'suspicious behaviour' an' they thought I was loopy 'er somethin' an' sent me here."

"Nothing to report," Poland sighed, "I just had, like, _no_ fashion sense whatsoever!"

"W'll, I th'nk tha' I had s'mthing diff'r'nt," Sweden frowned, looking around at the other Nations, who bore looks of confusion. Naturally, this was because many of them didn't understand him.

"What?" Finland's mouth opened on a neat little 'o', "Su-san, why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

"Didn' th'nk it was import'nt," he shrugged, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Well it is!" Finland groaned, "Typical!" he tugged at his hair melodramatically, making the other

Nations wonder how exactly he could deny being the 'wife' of their strange little relationship.

"Ah, excusez-moi, Finland," France raised a dainty hand, "Could you per'aps, reiterate? I, myself, can only understand every other word."

"Sweden says that he didn't just 'wake up' one morning," Finland acquiesced, giving a small frown to the Nation in question, "Although why he hasn't said anything about this before now is a mystery to me."

"T'ld ya," Sweden defended himself, looking ashamed. Or at least, as ashamed as Sweden can look, "I didn' know tha' ev'ryone w'ke up diff'rent."

"Then how exactly did you 'wake up', aru?" China frowned.

"Sl'wly," he replied, "I g't bits 'n pieces. 'S k'nda like wak'n up aft'r a l'ng dream. Ev'rythin's str'nge, but y' don' r'lly notice 'ntil one day, y' j'st…snap out 'a it," his eyebrows furrowed.

"So…" Finland paused, try to put the pieces together in his head, "You actually saw bits of yourself as a human? How long did it take you to realise?"

"F'r me, 'bout a day," Sweden said, "I didn' ev'n th'nk it was real, 'til I was j'st stand'n there as mys'lf."

"He says that it was like a dream," Finland spoke to the rest of the Nations, "Like waking up from a dream slowly, so that you can't tell that something is wrong until you finally open your eyes. Maybe the same thing will happen to Spain!"

"So we could help, right?" Prussia asked, looking around at everyone else, "If they let him stay around us, we could snap him back into it!"

"Provided that they let him," Germany pinched the bridge of his nose, "We might have already scared him away. The best we can hope for is that he doesn't just get on the first flight back to Bern."

"Way to kill the mood, Kraut," England stated bluntly.

"But…" Canada spoke up for the first time, still hiding under America's arm, "That nurse has been pretty nice to us, eh…do you think she'll make him stay? She seems to like Italy and Romano."

"But she's just a nurse, isn't she?" Korea asked, "If he doesn't want to stay, how is she gonna make him, da ze?"

"We've just gotta hope for the best, yeah?" America gave a weak grin, "After all, we all want Spain back."

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"Romano? Romano please, calm down!" Italy begged, on his knees in front of Romano, who was sitting on the couch.

Italy's eyes were wide with fear and worry as he looked at his brother. Romano's eyes were even wider than his own, staring straight ahead like nothing was in front of him. He rocked back and forth, shaking and muttering to himself under his breath.

"Fratello! Wake up!" Italy whispered urgently, grabbing Romano by the shoulder and shaking him lightly. The shaking stopped, and Romano blinked, his eyes focusing in on Veneziano, "Romano, are you alright? Please, don't stop talking to me again!"

"I…" Romano began to speak, but found his throat much to dry to make words. He swallowed, "I just don't fucking understand why this always has to happen to me…"

"I know, I know it's not fair," Italy replied, "But just think Romano, you've finally found him. Ve, you know that big brother Spain loves you so much. I'm sure he'll remember in no time!"

Romano chuckled humourlessly, "Yeah, you always were the naïve one…" he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, "Thanks though."

"Romano, you should lie down," Italy advised, "Please, take a nap or something, you look so tired."

It was true, Romano looked like he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. The pools of hazel were glossy and red-rimmed; a sign of someone who was holding in tears. He gave a heaving sigh, giving in to his brother's suggestion and lying down across the couch. His eyes slid shut, and he put a thin smile on his lips.

"Hey Feliciano?" he whispered, "Do you think that maybe we really are just crazy?"

Italy shook his head rapidly, "No, no, of course not Lovi. Something is just very wrong with big brother. Maybe it was with us too, I don't know, but right now we're all here and we're all okay and we should be happy for that."

"Happy," Romano chuckled, "Funny, how happy's been the last thing on my mind since I got here," he could sense that Veneziano would say something to that remark, so he continued, "Don't think I'm being a pussy or anything but…will you stay here until I pass out?"

"Ve, of course I will," Italy nodded, brushing a few strands of auburn hair out of his face. Leaning over, he did the same for his brother, smoothing his chocolate coloured bangs away from his eyes, "I'm sure that things will be looking up when you wake."

At least, he really hoped so.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"Please, can you explain what's going on? Why do they know my name?" Dr. Carriedo asked worriedly, walking slightly behind Nurse Wilson as she led the way down the familiar linoleum halls towards Dr. Eticott's office.

"I'm not sure that I should be the one discussing this with you," she replied, keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead.

"No, please, tell me!" he demanded, stepping slightly in front of her, "This is seriously freaking me out!"

She stopped in the middle of the hallway, fixing the man with a critical stare. The man was a good head taller than her, with slightly wavy brown hair and green eyes that were currently directed into a determined frown. His skin was well tanned and his accent, clearly Spanish now that his place of origin had been identified, gave his words a melody even when he was angry.

She could easily believe that this man would become a patient here at MacFarlane's. He fit all of the criteria that the other's had outlined for her, barring one significant detail.

His mentality was still intact.

She knew from the case studies that all of the others had been relatively normal before. Until, like a switch had been flipped, they became different people. It was safe to assume, given the reaction of the other patients, namely Romano, whom she had genuinely come to worry for, that she was looking at a member of their group who had not yet 'switched'.

"Look, Dr. Carriedo," she began quite frankly, "How much do you know about the patients that are currently here?"

"About as much as the next doctor," he confessed, "Including Mr. Zwingli, there are sixteen patients from different countries across the world, all suffering from a similar delusion that they are whatever country they hailed from."

"That's all?"

"Yes, that's everything I've been told," he nodded. Nurse Wilson sighed, brushing a hand through her brown hair.

"I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but you do deserve to know, and I'm truly worried about the group of men in there," she gestured back towards the room they had come from, "All of the patients seem to know each other intimately. By the name of the person or of the country, it's like the members of their mental likeness have all been predetermined.

"This is the main way that we have been able to tell whether or not the various patients from around the world are legitimately afflicted by the same disease. Did you see the albino and the tall blonde he was standing beside in there?"

Dr. Carriedo nodded, an unidentifiable expression on his face, "Yes, I remember them."

"Those two are Gilbert and Ludwig Beilschmidt, or Prussia and Germany as they like to be called," she decided to conveniently leave out the part where she regularly referred to them as such, "They arrived at this hospital unannounced after seeing some of the other patients on a news broadcast. They recognized them, even though they hadn't even been introduced to them within the hospital. They took a plane to get to America, and fought past the security guards to get inside. We were very close to calling the police before the other patients came to their rescue."

"So you're telling me that they think _I'm_ one of them?" the doctor gasped, "That's ridiculous, I'm a psychoanalyst, and I definitely don't recognise any of them!"

"Please, come along," she said, beginning to walk again, "As far as we know, before their personalities changed, they didn't have any idea who the other patients were either. I know the idea must shock you, but this is why you need to speak with doctor Eticott."

Dr. Carriedo didn't make any move to speak as he followed Nurse Wilson further down the hallway.

Dr. Eticott's office was much cleaner than the last time she had been there, a by-product of far too much stress on the good doctor's part. As Nurse Wilson strode into the door, flanked by the still troubled Dr. Carriedo, she was relieved to see that Dr, Eticott was in his office, busily filing papers away into his desk.

"Ah, Ms. Wilson, come in!" he smiled, walking over to them, "And you must be Dr. Carriedo. I do say, it's wonderful that a doctor as young as yourself is taking an interest in this case!"

"Dr. Eticott, I'm very sorry, but this is about a much more important matter," Nurse Wilson apologised as she beckoned the Spanish doctor further into the room.

The doctor looked confused, "Is something wrong, Louisa? Has something happened amongst the patients?"

"In a matter of speaking," she replied, "The patients here seemed to know Dr. Carriedo. They even called him by name, which I'm assuming was correct?" she looked to the man in question for confirmation.

He nodded, "It's almost creepy. My full name is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo; most people can't even remember it let alone pronounce it perfectly."

Dr. Eticott frowned, taking off his wire-rimmed glasses and giving the other doctor a once-over, "And you believe that this young man could develop the same mentality as the other patients?"

"I do," she said firmly, "Although as a nurse, the most I can do it report my findings to you, sir. You have the final say in things like this."

"Wait a second!" Dr. Carriedo interrupted, "Don't I get a say in this? I mean, how con you even be sure of this?"

"Sadly, Dr. Carriedo, the patients have a perfect track record for things like this," Dr. Eticott sighed, "As unwise as it is to base my thoughts off of the behaviour of the patients, I must say that when it comes to situations like this isn't better to be safe than sorry."

"But what does that even mean?" the brunet shook his head, "You want to keep me here as a patient?"

"No, of course not," Dr. Eticott explained, his tone smooth and fatherly, "That would be pointless as there is nothing wrong with you mentally. What I would suggest, for the wellbeing of the patients, is that you continue to stick around, perhaps even work alongside miss Louisa here with the patients."

"What would that prove?" he asked.

"Young man, when you've been doing this for as long as I have, you never look a gift horse in the mouth. The patients will be much more willing to trust you than they would another member of the staff. We haven't had much opportunity to diagnose due to the influx of calls from around the world, quite a few of them being false, mind you," he grinned, "I would hope that you talk to them, perhaps put your skills to work finding similarities between the patients."

"I second that idea," Nurse Wilson agreed, "It would also help the patients calm down; they're rather upset about this whole ordeal."

"Although naturally, the final decision is up to you," Dr. Eticott said, "We can't make you do this against your will, but we would appreciate it greatly if you would help us."

Dr. Carriedo looked hesitant, glancing back and forth between the doctor and the nurse. He was still thoroughly freaked out about the earlier occurrence in the Commons Room. How on earth was it possible for a mental illness to provide the patients with his name?

"I…I suppose that it couldn't hurt," he began, unsure. Taking a deep breath, he hardened his resolve, "I've come too far to just turn back now. I'll help you with the patients. After all, as a psychoanalyst, I'll definitely be of more use to you if I'm interacting with them."

Nurse Wilson smiled, glad that he wouldn't be leaving them. Feeling proud and slightly apprehensive, she gave the doctor a warm pat on his shoulder, offering to lead him back to the patients.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Back in the Commons Room, the tension had died down amongst the Nations. Romano had drifted off into a peaceful slumber, for which everyone was grateful. Italy had made his was back to Germany's side, and the rest had spread out, talking to each other in hushed tones, not wanting to wake the sleeping Italian.

For China, he was truly amazed at how unified that the Nations had become. He couldn't recall a time where such a large group of Nations had coexisted in closed quarters. Much less come to a consensus over an existential crisis, and now everyone was doing their best to let Romano sleep; a Nation who most of them didn't get along with.

He supposed that things were a lot different within the confines of the hospital.

"Aniki..?" a quiet voice came from behind him. Turning around, China couldn't help but feel a wave of apprehension come over him at the sight of Korea.

"Yes, Korea? Can I help you with anything?" he asked, fiddling a bit with the end of his ponytail. He thought back on what Finland had told him; that he should try and give Korea the benefit of the doubt.

"Actually, I just wondered if I could sit by you for a bit?" the unusually tame Asian Nation replied, looking uncomfortable after the discussion earlier, "The only other people here I really know are Canada and America, and they're busy, da ze," he pointed over to where the brothers sat at a table, muttering to each other and looking rather lost.

China blinked. Had he ever really just sat around with Korea before? He couldn't ever recall having done so, "Sure, aru," he said, settling himself down on the floor, smiling wanly as Korea sat down next to him, "So, is there anything on your mind?"

"Same as everybody else," Korea shrugged, looking over his shoulder, "I'm really freaked out right now! Aniki, when did you first remember everything?"

"Hmmm…" China had to think for a moment, "I believe it was three months ago, near the beginning of June, aru."

"Really?" Korea frowned, "I only remembered three weeks ago! Why do you think it's so different, da ze?"

Shaking his head, China was truly at a loss, "I have no idea, aru. I guess that there are some things that we'll never fully understand," he gave the much younger Nation a peculiar look, wondering why he was so much calmer than he normally was.

"What's wrong, Aniki?" Korea asked, catching the look that China threw him, "Is there something wrong?"

"You seem different, aru," China stated, "Of all the years I've known you, aru, I've never seen you so…down to earth."

Korea quirked an eyebrow, "Aniki, no one's in the mood to be funny right now," he grinned, "It's just my style; I like the way I act, it's fun. Doesn't mean that it's my only gear, da ze!"

"Funny, I've never seen you switch gears before…" China muttered, looking slightly put out at the fact that his little brother was talking to him like a child. Talk about a lack of respect for their elders!

"That's just because you're too much fun when you're angry!" Korea laughed, leaning backwards to dodge China's hand when the older man swatted at him, "See? Just like that!"

Chins sighed angrily, "You should be like this more often," he advised, "Maybe then, more people would like you, aru."

"Wait," Korea blinked, looking a little hurt, "Are you saying that you don't like me, aniki?"

China faltered. Was that really what he meant? "Erm…no, I don't dislike you, aru, but perhaps I wouldn't get so frustrated with you if you weren't so hyper, aru. Also, why are you addressing me in Japanese?"

"Does it matter?" Korea replied vaguely, wearing a mischievous grin.

"It's slightly bothersome, aru," China pouted, not really surprised that he didn't get a straight answer.

"Again I ask: does it matter?" Korea laughed, jumping up from his spot on the floor this time to avoid China's attempt to punch him.

It looked like some things would never change. At least, not when it came to China and Korea.

**-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-**

"**Tu as raison," – "You're right"**

"**Excusez-moi," – "Excuse me"**

**I know that not a lot happened in this chapter, but I really had to split it in half! This is over 5000 words, and the entire thing was over 10 000, so this was the halfway point.**

**NEXT CHAPTER: Canadian Rage, A Chat With Switz, and Romano Gets A Shock.**

**Read and Review! I really love hearing from you all!**


	16. Quinze: Cet Espoir

**Hey there guys; I'm here with the latest chapter! I would like to thank everyone who had reviewed, favourited and alerted this story so far! Over 700 reviews is more than anyone could ask for!**

**Also, to my one anonymous reviewer called 'LEGIT', I just wanted to say that your review made me laugh more than any before it! Good god, you are brilliant with your analysis. I only wish you had signed your review so that I could have replied and told you how much you made my day!**

**INSERT STANDARD DISCLAIMER!**

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

_**Folie à Plusiers**_

Quinze: Cet Espoir

_Fifteen: This Hope_

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"Gather here, everyone," Nurse Wilson called as she re-entered the Commons Room, Dr. Carriedo having gone elsewhere to procure his private room in the hospital. He would be back in ten minutes, after he had all of his belongings sorted.

"Ssshh!" the Nations hissed in unison, pointing at the silent figure of Romano, who was sound asleep on the couch. She sighed; if he was sleeping, then that meant that he hadn't gone catatonic on them again. It was a good sign.

"Sorry," she lowered her voice to a loud whisper, "I'm sure you're all wondering what's going on with the new doctor?"

"Mais oui," France nodded, "How could you expect any different? Do you think that we are wrong and that this 'doctor' is not our Spain?"

Immediately, she shook her head, "Of course I believe you all. I believe that each and every one of you knows what you're talking about."

"Ve, so what's going to happen?" Italy asked tentatively, clinging to Germany's arm nervously.

"He will be staying here. As a doctor," she added, "Please, don't make him too nervous. He's already shaken up over the incident earlier. He will be around you because technically he is a psychologist and he is better suited to be around you guys."

"That just begs the question: how exactly did _Spain_ of all people become a doctor?" England sniggered, a few others joining in on the laughter.

"I want you to remember though," she began sternly, "That this man is not who you know. He won't respond to your jokes and you could very well scare him into leaving if you're not careful."

"So, are we like, just supposed to pretend like we don't even know him?" Poland asked, raising his eyebrows.

"No, just keep in mind that he may or may not be as friendly towards you as you are to him," she warned, placing her hands on her hips "He'll be down here in just a few moments. You can decide amongst yourselves what you'll do."

"France and I got first dibs!" Prussia announced, pumping a fist into the air, "We're his best friends! Besides, Romano's still sleeping, and I pity the poor fool who wakes that guy up."

At that moment, the doctor appeared at the door, smiling. The Nations glanced at him a little unsurely, but he didn't seem to be anywhere near as anxious as he had been over their initial 'incident'.

"Bonjour, Dr. Carriedo," France smiled, for once in his life looking genuinely non-threatening, "My friend and I were wondering if you would like to come and sit with us? I'm sure we could tell you some great stories."

"Ah, sure," he agreed, his smile becoming a little sheepish, "Whatever you want!"

France and Prussia winked at each other, and hurried off to claim the table in the far corner for themselves.

Nurse Wilson caught Dr. Carriedo's arm as he passed, "Call them by the names that they call each other. I assume that you've read all of their files by now, and know what country each one represents," she spoke in a hushed tone. She didn't really want the other nurses to know that she was saying this, as it was highly unprofessional.

"Shouldn't we be trying to encourage the use of their real names?" apparently, the doctor thought it was unprofessional as well.

"Please, trust me. They don't like being called by their real names, it will only make them mad."

He still didn't quite look convinced, "Well, if you say so… you've worked with them longer than I have," he shrugged, putting a smile back on his face, turning around and walking to join the members of the Bad Touch Trio.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

An hour and a half later, and the newly reunited (or at least, for the most part) group of friends were howling with laughter, bent over the table because of their heaving lungs.

"Did he really use to do that?" Dr. Carriedo asked, pointing a trembling finger at France, "Grope other people in the middle of a fight?"

"Kesesese, he sure did!" Prussia cackled with delight, "Some of them wouldn't even notice!" he made no mention of any names, however.

"Was he really that subtle?" the doctor asked, a little impressed.

"Nah, the other people were just really, really oblivious," Prussia shook his head, still laughing.

"I do not see how you find this amusing!" France exclaimed, though he himself was laughing as well, "It was simply my way of spreading l'amour! It's an art of passion!"

"It's an art of sexual predation, that's what it is," Prussia corrected him, "Although it _is _pretty damn hilarious!"

"You two are ridiculous," Dr. Carriedo chuckled. For a moment, he was almost able to forget that the people with him were making these stories up; that it was all just something that their minds concocted because of a mental illness.

Although he secretly thought that it would be really cool if it wasn't.

"Hell yeah, we're fucking awesome," Prussia proclaimed, looking out across the Commons Room, "Much more so than any of these losers! They wouldn't know awesome if it kicked them in the ass! Well, except maybe for Mattie."

"'Mattie'?" Dr. Carriedo asked, quirking his eyebrow. Was Prussia using a human name?

"Oui, mon petit Mathieu," France sighed, "'E is the one over there with the other blonde," he cast his hand in the direction of Canada and America, who had once again taken over the ping-pong table.

"Uh, forgive me for asking," he began. "But why do you call him Mattie? I thought that you all called each other by the names of your countries."

"Pssh, yeah, and we'd do that if we were just any old Nations," Prussia scoffed, shaking his head condescendingly, "We're bros, Mattie and I! His awesomeness almost matches mine, especially when he makes pancakes!"

"What Prussia here is trying to say," France cut across, "Is that we are closer to Mathieu than most. The only others who call him by name are America and perhaps England. We are the Nation, but we are also the person within the Nation. It is sort of like a last-name versus first-name basis."

"Oh, blah blah blah, you're only talking because I don't speak like a pansy-ass!" Prussia complained, "I could explain shit _awesomely_ if I wanted to!"

Dr. Carriedo nodded, "I think I understand," he glanced over to the clock that hung on the wall, "What time do you usually eat dinner here?"

"Around five o'clock," France also looked towards the clock, "It seems a bit early for me, but who am I to complain about American customs? Oh what am I saying, of _course_ I complain about American customs!" he waved his hand around flippantly. The clock read 4:45.

"So we'll be going soon then?" he asked, "I'm supposed to stay with you during meals as well. I don't eat with you, but I get to hang around while you eat. Seems kinda unfair in a way."

"Not to worry, mon ami, you are not missing anything; the food here is terribly bland," France sighed, spying England trying to escape America and Canada to go read, "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I believe I have an England to harass."

"See how he doesn't even try to sugar coat it anymore?" Prussia pointed out, rolling his eyes as France crept across the room, leaving the albino alone with the doctor, "Harassing. It's exactly what he does!"

Dr. Carriedo laughed, "Yeah, he does seem like that," he said fondly. He was surprised at how well he could speak with these patients; if they weren't in a psychiatric hospital, he wouldn't have suspected that there was anything wrong with them. He got along well with them.

Prussia glanced out across the room, a movement from the opposite corner catching his eye, "Oh, looks like little princess Romano is awake. About time," he announced, jerking his head in the direction of the drowsy brunet who was lifting himself up slowly from the couch.

The doctor followed Prussia's eyes to the boy on the couch. He felt a pang of fear, a lingering wariness after the other brunet's outburst earlier. But at the same time, he felt like he should try to cheer the younger boy up; like it would make everything better if he could make that one patient smile.

Strange.

"Romano? Is there a country named that?" he asked, no such places coming to the top of his head.

"Nah, I think his full name's Italia Romano or something," Prussia replied, his accent mangling the name a bit, "His brother's Italia Veneziano. They're a special case, however that works. Italy's pretty awesome, but Romano's a bit of a dick."

"They're both Italy?"

"We only call his brother Italy, since he's the main sovereign. Romano is the southern part of the country," Prussia looked like he was rather bored giving the spiel, "From the ankle of the boot downwards is Romano's territory."

"Hm…" he watched as the boy pulled himself into a sitting position, scratching absently at his hair, "Do you think I should go talk to him? I don't think we got off on the best foot earlier."

"Well yeah," Prussia said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which, for the Nations, it pretty well was, "But be warned, the kid's a real spitfuck, and he goes off faster than a firecracker."

Well, _that_ certainly made him feel better, "Er, sure…" he stood to leave, pushing his chair back in to the table as he moved aside.

"Hey," Prussia stopped him, "Just don't get him too riled, ja? He's unawesome at the best of times, you don't want him upset," Well, really, Prussia was just trying to get the not-Spain to talk to Romano, hoping that _something_ would happen.

He flashed a smile back, "I'll try not to."

Romano wasn't paying any attention to him as he approached; he was lost in thought. It wasn't in the bad way, that Dr. Carriedo had seen many times throughout his career, when a patient lost their grip on reality. It was a pensive thinking look; concentrated.

"Hi," he greeted, sitting down on the couch beside Romano.

He received a noncommittal grunt in reply.

"Look, I don't really know what to say to you," he confessed, "You freaked me out a little bit earlier. I don't want to keep my distance from you either; you seem like an alright guy."

"An alright guy?" Romano scoffed, casting him a sideways glance, "You watched me flip my shit at you and you think I'm an 'alright guy'? I'm fucking loopy. Hence the nuthouse," he gestured around him.

"Aw, I think you're wrong there," Dr. Carriedo shook his head, "From what I've seen, everyone here is pretty rational. You were upset earlier, because you mistook me for someone else." Romano frowned slightly, but the look went unnoticed. How was he supposed to talk to this guy, when it was so obvious that he was Spain, but at the same time, he wasn't? It was taking all of his energy not to burst into hysterics!

"Yeah, rational. Tell me something: why do you even care?" Romano asked, looking pointedly away from the doctor, "Especially about me. I hope you know that I would have gladly beaten the shit out of you earlier if my brother hadn't held me back."

"Well, that's certainly endearing," Dr. Carriedo said sarcastically, "I care for two reasons: one, because it's my job to help people, and two, because it's the right thing to do. Call me thick-headed, but I don't hold anything against you. You interest me."

Romano swallowed, hoping to hell that he wasn't blushing as much as he thought he was, "Faggot," he spit out, hoping to alleviate the sudden tension he felt.

"Now _that_ was just rude," the doctor frowned, "I didn't mean it that way. I'm going to assume from talking to you that you try to distance yourself from situations by cursing, to make it seem like you aren't emotionally involved."

"Ugh," Romano groaned. That's right, he thought, Spain or not, this guy was a doctor. And a damned perceptive one too. Maybe it was just because he was Spain; Antonio seemed to be the only one who understood his need to swear.

"Did I hit the nail on the head?"

"Fuuuuck," Romano hissed under his breath, just loud enough for the doctor to hear it.

Dr. Carriedo smiled, "Thought so. Man, has anyone ever told you how red your face gets when you're embarrassed? You look just like—"

"—a tomato?" Romano finished matter-of-factly, quirking his eyebrow.

"Yeah!" the doctor exclaimed, "How did you know that I was gonna say that?"

"Just a lucky guess," he sighed. Maybe this guy was more like Spain than he thought.

"That's pretty cool," Dr. Carriedo chuckled, standing up from the couch, "Everyone's going to be heading down to eat soon, do you want to get going?"

Romano stood up as well, stretching and earning some nice popping noises from his shoulders, "Sure, why not. It's not like they allow us to miss meals here."

"C'mon then," the doctor called, taking a few steps, "And you really shouldn't pop your joints like that, it's not good for you."

"Like I care!" Romano shot back. Strangely, he found himself getting quite comfortable with talking to this pseudo-Spain.

Still, he really hoped that the real one would come back soon.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Lunchtime with the Nations was bustling with energy; all of them were still rather on-edge about the affair with Spain, although most of them tried to focus their thoughts elsewhere. This resulted in Turkey and Greece entering in an intense glaring contest from across the room. Not a word was sent between the two, but the entire room was nearly filled with a sense of animosity.

A friendly rivalry was also sparked between America and Prussia, as they laughed about one another's lack of awesomeness.

"Oh come on, when have you even had time to be awesome!" Prussia jeered, "You're just a kid! You're what, four hundred years old, at the very most?"

"And that must make you old!" America returned, trying not to laugh, "I'm youthful, dangit! I could kick your old ass any day!"

While this little contest was going on, Canada sat between the two, his head hung low while he pretended that he didn't know either of them. Especially America. Why did two of his best friends always have to butt heads? Sure they were friends too, but that certainly didn't stop Prussia and America from trying to out-man each other.

"Hey, hey! I'm not old, I'm _experienced_!" Prussia defended himself, "I've been fighting in wars since before you hit puberty! I'm just that damn awesome!"

Canada smacked his forehead. Even though Prussia was older, he certainly wasn't any more _mature._

"Careful there old man," America taunted, "You wouldn't want to break a hip!"

Yep, and America was just as immature.

"Please! You're just an attention-seeking coward!" Prussia laughed, "Kesesese, you've never even joined a war unless you could hog the glory for it!"

"Hey, back off!" America actually sounded a little insulted, "Don't make me go all Manifest Destiny on your ass!"

"Okay, that is _so not funny_, eh!" Canada jerked his head up, slamming his hands on the table. Both Nations shut their mouths, shocked at the fact that they had been interrupted by an angry Canada.

America even trembled a little, knowing what his brother got like when he was angry. No one, barring no one, could lecture you like an angry Canadian. Plus, he had probably stepped on some major toes with his 'Manifest Destiny' jab. He didn't even remember that Mattie was sitting there!

"U-uhh, sorry Mattie," America chuckled nervously, holding his hands out in front on himself, "You know I didn't mean anything by it, right? Come on man…"

"You are both so immature!" Canada cried in exasperation, "I thought you would just keep it to a playful banter, eh, but _no_! You just had to keep going, didn't you?"

"Whoa, Mattie, I—" Prussia tried to cut across, but shut his mouth when Canada turned to him.

"And you, Prussia! You know that Al didn't have any choice about the wars; it was his boss that kept him from helping us! At least he gave us supplies and weapons! The same can't be said about you, since you were the one of the ones we were _fighting, _eh!

"And you, Alfred!" it seemed like Canada wasn't anywhere near finished, "Manifest Destiny? _Manifest Destiny_? You are such a complete _hoser_, eh! Do you think I like to be reminded that I was at war with you? Do you?"

"I swear, bro, I didn—" America was looking close to tears.

"—You didn't mean it?" Canada cut him off, "You didn't mean your whole 'I am destined to rule this whole continent so let's invade Canada' regime? _You tried to assimilate me!_ I had to ask England for help because my own brother was invading me! You were always a stupid, ignorant blockhead, even back then, and now you have the gall to use that as a threat? _Tabarnak_, you are lucky I'm a peaceful Nation, or else I'd pull my troops out of Afghanistan and put them to good use kicking your ass, eh!"

America, by this point, had buried his head in his hands and was looking like he'd rather be _anywhere_ but where he was. Prussia looked torn between running for his life, and laughing at America.

England, who had been at another table conversing with Switzerland, looked up at the slight commotion (because really, Canada's voice wasn't all that loud, even when he was yelling) and saw the telltale signs of one of Canada's famous rants.

"Canada, you can give him a break already," England called, "I know he probably deserves it, but I don't think that making him cry is going to fix it."

Canada paused, looking at America, "Oh… I'm sorry, Al. You know I just get so angry sometimes… please stop crying, eh?"

Prussia gave a low whistle, "Damn, I don't think I've been more impressed in my life. Mattie, you are even scarier than Hungary with a frying pan!"

Canada glared, placing a hand on America's shoulder.

"Alright, I get it," Prussia held up his hands in defeat, "The Almighty Awesome knows how to pick his battles, and this is not one I'm willing to get involved in. You know what they say: hell hath no fury like a woman scorned!" laughing, he sped off before either one of the North American brothers could register the insult.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

From across the room, Dr. Carriedo watched the scene with a nervous interest, "Should I go and break them up?" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone around him.

"I don't think so doc," Romano mumbled around a mouth full of salad (extra tomatoes, naturally), "I don't know much about them, but the general rumour is that this happens a lot. America's a dumbass, so it's not surprising."

Dr. Carriedo looked at Romano doubtfully, "What?"

"Did I fucking stutter?" Romano asked, flicking a tomato off of his fork at the doctor. The slice of red fruit hit him in the head, landing on the shoulder of his white coat.

"Don't throw your food at me," he grumbled, picking up the piece of tomato, "I'm not even allowed to eat right now; it's like torture."

"So you're a glutton?" Romano smirked, "Don't you like tomatoes?"

"I'm not a glutton, I'm just kinda hungry," the doctor replied scratching at his head with his free hand, "And tomatoes are fine, I guess. They're not my favourite thing though."

Romano frowned a little, "Really?"

"Why do you sound so surprised?" he asked, looking Back over his shoulder to make sure that fighting hadn't broken out amongst any of the other patients. It was alright, he supposed, since there are also four nurses in the room. He threw the piece of tomato that had hit him into a trash can.

"Because tomatoes are fucking great," Romano replied, not wanting to use the word 'awesome' for fear of sounding like Potato Bastard Number Two, "I'm serious, you bastard!"

Dr. Carriedo laughed lightly, "Whatever you say, kid."

"I'm not a fucking kid!" Romano snorted, "I'm only two years younger than you!"

"Oh really?" Dr. Carriedo raised his eyebrows, pulling out a chair so that he could sit beside the patient, "How can you be sure of that?"

Ah, crap. How was he going to explain this..? Physically speaking, he was twenty-three, and Spain was twenty-five, even though they were centuries apart; he had just assumed that they were the same ages now.

"I dunno, you just look like you're mid-twenties or whatever" Romano replied lamely, "And I'm twenty-three" at least, he hoped he was still, "So I guessed. Don't read to much into it, bastard."

"I won't then," the doctor smiled, "You're right, by the way; I'm twenty-five. Most people just assume that I'm older because I'm a psychiatric doctor. I graduated early."

"Good for you," Romano replied, though he didn't sound very interested, "Why are you so damned happy all the time? Stop smiling!"

Dr. Carriedo shrugged, "I dunno. Usually I try to be serious when I'm working, but I just feel really happy right now. It's strange, but it's not like smiling's bad for you."

Romano grumbled, poking at the remainder of his food. The damned doctor reminded him too much of Spain when he smiled like that. He didn't want to get his hopes up. But still, if he acted more like Spain, then maybe Spain would wake up soon.

"Here," he mumbled, sliding a piece of tomato to the edge of his plate, "You said you were hungry."

"No, I can't take your food," Dr. Carriedo shook his head, "Besides, I get a break to eat in twenty minutes."

"I said you can fucking have it," Romano said, "You're not stealing. You should freakin' worship this moment; I'm not a nice person. Just eat the damned tomato."

Not wanting to start an argument, Dr. Carriedo took the piece of tomato and popped it into his mouth. Romano watched out of the corner of his eye, waiting for the reaction.

"Okay, you were right," he laughed, his smile back full-force, "Tomatoes are really good!"

Romano smiled silently. He was expecting that answer.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Lunch ended, and dinner had come and went. Dr. Carriedo had introduced himself to all of the Nations in turn, returning inevitably to Romano's side every ten minutes or so. Nurse Wilson smiled to herself as she watched them talking. It seemed that Romano was alright for now.

In fact, he was more than alright. She had never seen him smirking and laughing his he was in the presence of the Spanish doctor. Dr. Carriedo himself seemed different too. She didn't want to attribute this to the fact that his mentality was shifting, since he wasn't 'Spain' by any means, btu he seemed happier. More carefree than the confused but nonetheless work-oriented man she had met that morning.

Today had been much more peaceful than she could have hoped for. She had been worried that the stress and confusion would cause the trust she had tried to build with her patients to collapse, leaving them angry and withdrawn, like when Romano had been sedated. It was a miracle unto itself that everyone was coping alright.

The Commons Room was peaceful now; the patients had spread out in groups, playing games or talking. Nurse Wilson stood off to the side, watching Dr. Carriedo and Romano.

"Ahem," came a voice from her opposite side, "Ma'am, if I could have a word with you?"

Turning around, she was confronted with the newest patient, Vash Zwingli. Or Switzerland, she conceded, as he would undoubtedly prefer being called that.

"Hello," she offered him a smile, "I don't believe that we've properly met. My name is Louisa Wilson, and I'm your head nurse."

The blonde man offered a hand to shake, looking rather mistrusting, "Switzerland. Look, I don't want to come off as rude, but I wanted to speak to you about my sister." He had a very blunt way of speaking, she noticed, and it didn't look like he really wanted to talk to her at all.

"Anything you want," she replied, gesturing to a few chairs that were leaning against the wall, "Would you like to sit down?"

He nodded, but didn't speak. So they sat. Switzerland didn't make any move to look in her direction, and Nurse Wilson figured that he must have just been awkward around strangers.

"So, would you like to tell me a little bit about your sister?" she asked good-heartedly.

Switzerland sighed, "She is a very good girl. I think that I worry about her too much, but she depends on me and I can't help it," he cast her a sidelong look, "I'm not sure I trust you enough to be telling you this."

"You have my word that I won't do anything," she promised, "I won't even tell anyone else, if you don't want me to. It's called patient confidentiality, and it is taken very seriously around here. Please, continue."

"Alright. Do you know the country Liechtenstein?" he asked.

"I've heard of it, but I can't say that I know much," she confessed, looking apologetic. She supposed that with this group of patients, it wouldn't hurt to verse herself in a little bit of culture and world history.

"I'm not surprised. Most foreigners don't," he replied, "She means the world to me; she's very young, and not self-sufficient. She is a bit shorter than you, with hair like mine, but she likes to wear a ribbon in it. As a human, I guess she would be about twelve years old."

"Only twelve?" Nurse Wilson asked.

Switzerland nodded, "Look ma'am, I don't trust you. The other Nations call me xenophobic, but in reality, there are just too many people who could hurt me or my sister. I just want you to tell me first if anything comes up about her. Can you do that?" his glare was unnerving.

"Of course," she confirmed, nodding, "I promise you, you'll be the first one to know."

Switzerland nodded, accepting of that answer, and stood up. He gave her one more curt not, and began to walk back the way he had come.

"Switzerland," she called, standing up as well and smoothing down her scrub. He turned and looked at her with a questioning look. She took a breath, "Just don't spend your whole time thinking about it. I know you're worried about her, but we have no way of knowing when she'll be found. You'll worry yourself crazy thinking about her all the time."

He didn't reply to her, but the look in his eyes showed that he appreciated the extra words. Whether or not he would abide by them, however, was completely up to him.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Back in the corner of the room, Romano was busy reciting for the doctor the story of when he was kidnapped by Turkey. It brought an aggressive smirk to his face to think about the Turk getting his ass handed to him, even if it was a short-lived victory.

"—the idiot ended up throwing a cow into the wagon," Romano snorted with laughter, "And then he got on this whole monologue, I don't really know or care because the stupid fucking cow knocked me out. When I woke up, I was still tied up, on the back of the cow, and my skirt was _really_ fucking twisted around my legs."

"Wait," the doctor wore an amused face, "You wore a skirt?"

Romano's face went red, "Shut up, you bastard! I wore pants under them!" he yelled.

Dr. Carriedo laughed absently, his eyes fixing on a point on the wall. Romano waited for him to say something, but when a minute passed without any noise from the doctor, he began to get a little concerned (he wasn't worried though, damnit!).

"Hey, jerk? Anyone home in there?" He asked, waving a hand in front of the Spaniard's face, "Oi, bastard, snap out of it!"

"Hm?" the doctor mumbled, blinking. Suddenly, he sat up straighter, like he was shocked, "Whoa. Sorry about that, I guess I zoned out there for a bit."

"What was that all about?" Romano asked, frowning slightly. The stupid doctor had almost scared him.

"I'm… not sure," the doctor replied, confused, "I was fine before, and then I just kinda went blank for a few seconds. It was really strange. I didn't even notice it happening…" he looked around the room, frowning worriedly, "Does anyone but me get the feeling that something weird is going on here?"

Romano honestly didn't know what the doctor was talking about. He just hoped that the man wasn't going crazy from spending too much time around them. Romano knew that he wasn't Spain, at least his mind wasn't Spain's, but it would just be a final kick in the ass if he ended up losing him for good.

"Well, just don't start seeing things and spazzing," Romano sighed, "We can only handle so much crazy around here at once, and England's already got the hallucinations bit covered."

"I'm serious Romano," Dr. Carriedo looked at him, his frown lessening, "And you shouldn't pick on England so much. I'm pretty sure that he never made a habit out of wearing skirts."

"Oh, shut _up_ about the fucking skirts!" Romano groaned, smacking his forehead, "Besides, I already said that I wore pants! My brother was the little fag who didn't wear anything else under them!" he was embarrassed, and a little concerned about the sudden changes in Dr. Carriedo's mood.

"Aw, your brother wore skirts too?" he laughed, seemingly forgetting about his concern for a moment, "That would have been so cute! I mean, it's a little weird, but still, I bet you looked adorable!"

"W-what?" Romano sputtered, his face turning an even deeper red, "What the hell are you talking about, you pervert!"

"I don't even know," he replied, still laughing, "And your face is even redder now than it was this morning!" he pinched Romano's cheek, "Just like a huge tomato!"

Romano's kind blanched. Why was the doctor acting like this? Sure, he was happy that he was acting more and more like Spain, but now it was just getting weird! He acted like Spain, but he still wasn't remembering that he was Spain!

"What's wrong, Romano?" the smiling Spaniard asked, peering in close to his face, "You look really worried about something. Is it something that I can help you with?"

Oh yeah, Romano was definitely freaking out about this. This guy wasn't Spain; it was freaking him out that he was acting so much like it! It was practically short circuiting his mind!

"U-uh…" he faltered, at a loss for words. His mind was drawing a blank, and so he did the first thing that came to his mind.

He headbutted the doctor.

He knew as soon as he did it that it was a stupid idea, but heck, he was impulsive and not all that intelligent himself, so what else was there to do?

There was a loud _crack_ as Romano's forehead made contact with the doctor's, the move connecting perfectly due to the fact that the Spaniard had been leaning forward. With a short yelp, Dr. Carriedo fell backwards off of the couch that they were sitting on, hitting the floor hard.

"Romano!" he heard Nurse Wilson shout from the other end of the room. Oh fuck, he was gonna be in for it now.

Panic seized his arms and his chest felt like it was restricting. His breaths came out short and fast, his eyes staring at nothing. He didn't want to be sedated again; he didn't want to see that needle heading back toward the crook of his elbow…

Unconsciously, he drew himself back onto the couch, curling himself against the armrest and tucking his arms and legs in around himself, protecting their vulnerable undersides from the nurses who were running towards him. He _knew_ that one of them would be carrying the sedative.

Nurse Wilson reached him first, leaning down over him. He didn't see any needle on her, but that didn't mean that one of the others didn't have it.

"Romano, what happened?" She asked, not touching him for fear of setting off a reaction. He was already hyperventilating, so she waved an arm at the other nurses, telling them to back off and give him space.

As the other nurses moved away, Romano felt his breathing start to slow down. His head was pounding from the irregularity of his oxygen intake, and he groaned.

The noise was echoed by another groan, this one coming from Dr. Carriedo, who was still on his back on the floor. One of the other nurses went to his side to make sure that he was okay.

"Romano, are you alright?" Nurse Wilson tried to speak to him again, worried that his fragile state over the past few weeks had finally decided to snap. Once again, she received no answer; Romano's eyes were fixated on Dr. Carriedo, who had propped himself up on his elbows and was giving the nurses a puzzled look.

The Spaniard rubbed his forehead tenderly, wincing at the small amount of blood that wiped off on his fingers. He looked around confusedly, his expression deepening tenfold when his eyes came to rest on the terrified Italian on the couch.

"Lovi..?"

**-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-**

"**Tabarnak" – A French-Canadian slurr along the lines of "Holy Shit"**

**One again, please give me one week to write the next chapter. It could possibly be a little late, because I've been loaded with projects in all of my classes lately.**


	17. Seize: Si Seulement pour Ce Moment

**Daaaamn son. This story gets like, almost 100 reviews per chapter.**

**Mind.**

**Fucking.**

_**BLOWN.**_

**And speaking of which, for some reason I'm unable to use the Review Reply option, so I've been using PM for all of you who have it accessible.**

**This chapter was stupidly hard to write. I hope it's not obvious. **

**EDIT: Thank you to Pervy Otaku for correcting my French!**

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

_**Folie à Plusiers**_

Sieze: Si Seulement pour Ce Moment

_Sixteen: If Only for This Moment_

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

If Romano's eyes could go any wider, he was sure that they would have. He couldn't believe what he had just heard; that one little stupid diminutive that very few people ever called him by.

"S-Spain?" he asked, his mind still partially numb from fear and shock.

The Spaniard on the floor gave him a look, "Ay, Lovi, why did you hit me so hard?" he winced, "No one headbutts quite like you; you always were such a mean child."

Slowly bringing himself to his feet, Spain turned a three-sixty, looking at all the people gathered in the room around him. There were the nurses, or at least, he assumed that they were nurses, although he didn't know why exactly he would be in a hospital. And beyond them…

"Hey, what are you all doing here?" he asked, his face splitting into a wide smile as he caught sight of the other Nations just beyond the nurses, "Actually, I think I'd better ask, where are we?"

"Spain, you stupid bastard!" Romano yelled, jumping up from the couch so forcefully that Nurse Wilson had to jump back to avoid being pushed over. Wobbling a little on his unsteady legs and still cast-bound foot, he marched over to the Spaniard and hit him hard in the stomach, "You worry the fuck outta me, and then you barely talk to me? Chigi!"

"Ow!" Spain grimaced from the hit to his stomach, "What are you talking about, querido?

Romano's eyes narrowed, "Fucking hell, you're telling me that you don't remember?"

"Remember what, Lovi?" Spain asked, cocking his head to the side, "What is there to remember…" he trailed off, his eyebrows furrowing, "…I don't remember how I got here. I was sleeping, and then I woke up here!"

France shoved his way past the nurses, "Mon ami, isn't there anything else you remember? A dream, per'aps?" his blue eyes were wrought with worry, a rather unbecoming expression on the Parisian.

Spain shook his head, "What happened?" he looked over to the other Nations, who had made their way past the nurses to stand closer to him, "I must've eaten something really funny to make me sleep so fast! I can't really even remember the last thing I did!"

"But that's not right, is it?" Finland whispered, looking up to Sweden, "I thought that you remembered the day you woke up?"

Sweden nodded tersely, "I did."

Finland chewed on his lip anxiously, "So it's not the same…"

"What are you talking about?" Spain asked, "Is there something wrong?"

"By fuck," Romano seethed, "We are in a _mental hospital_, and you ask if something's wrong? You retard!" he delivered a swift backhand to Spain's head.

"Why do you keep hitting me?" Spain groaned, rubbing the back of his head.

"Because I keep hoping that it'll knock some sense into your empty head!" Romano retorted, failing at looking intimidating due to the fact that his eyes were still red and wet.

"He really doesn't remember anything, does he?" Italy asked, looking at Spain curiously.

"Ay, what am I supposed to be remembering?" Spain's face fell slightly, "I might understand better if someone explained it to me."

Nurse Wilson took this as her moment to step in, "Alright everyone, why don't we all just take a few steps back," she suggested calmly, although she was just as shocked at the sudden change in personae, "I'd like just a few minutes to explain things to your friend, is that okay?"

None of the Nations said anything for a few seconds.

"I don't think it'll make a difference if you explain it to him," Greece said tiredly, speaking up only because no one else seemed to.

She nodded, smiling politely at Spain, "Would you please come with me? I have a bit to tell you."

Spain smiled back, and Nurse Wilson was astounded by his sunny demeanour given the circumstance, "Sì, it would be nice to know what's going on."

Romano grabbed Spain's wrist, frowning, "I'm going with you," he said firmly, leaving no room for argument. He pulled the confused Nation over to the couch to grab his crutch.

"That's fine," Nurse Wilson said, "Let's use one of the other rooms, just for a bit of privacy."

She motioned for the other two to follow her, leading them out of the Commons Room and into one of the smaller rooms beside it. Romano kept his grip tight on Spain's wrist as they walked.

"Lovi, are you okay?" Spain asked, staring at the hand that was holding him, "Why are you holding onto me?"

"Shut up, you bastard," Romano replied, turning his head down to the floor so that Spain wouldn't see the violent flush that spread across his face. He wasn't ready to let go of Spain yet; it was the least that he owed him after leaving him alone for so long.

Spain was still slightly worried, but he decided to leave it alone. Romano tended to get mad of he pushed at things that weren't meant to be pried into; which happened a lot because Spain wasn't the most observant person in the world, (and he was aware of this fact).

The room they went into had a couch and a chair, which Nurse Wilson sat down it, allowing the other two the couch, since she didn't figure that Romano would be leaving Spain's side just yet.

"My name is Louisa Wilson," she began formally, "I understand that you are Spain?"

"As far as I know!" Spain laughed, "How did you know?"

"I've heard a few things from Romano and Italy about you. You're probably a little confused as to why you're all in this place, aren't you?"

Spain nodded, "You are one of America's people? I don't remember leaving my house."

She bit the bottom of her lip, "I think that I should start from the beginning. Yes, you are in America, at MacFarlane's Psychiatric Hospital. Recently, you and your friends have been appearing around the world, just like you did today; not knowing how you got there."

"We've always been here!" Spain said, "How is it that we appear?"

"…You wake up from being not yourselves," she decided not to state it outright, "Everyone else here was just like you. They all just woke up one day not knowing where they've been; Romano has been here for three months already, and you yourself just woke up today."

"But I was already in here," Spain noticed, "How was I already at America's place?"

Romano made a small noise, tightening his grip on Spain's wrist, "You didn't fucking remember us," he muttered, not looking toward Spain, "You came here as a goddamned _shrink_."

"What?" Spain actually frowned this time, "That's impossible; I don't know anything like that, and Lovi you're kinda hurting me now."

Romano dropped Spain's arm like he was burned by it, tucking his hands into his lap and glancing at the red imprint of his fingers on Spain's tanned skin. A barely audible 'sorry' came from the Italian's lips.

"Romano, are you alright?" Nurse Wilson asked, frowning. Romano had been so silent and held on to Spain like a lifeline; not unlike his brother when Germany arrived, "I know that you were a little shaken up earlier, but I still need to talk to you as well. Why did you headbutt him?" she gestured to Spain, not mentioning any names for the fact that he was no longer the same person.

Spain answered the question instead, "Lovi's hit me like that for as long as I've known him!" his eyes brightened as he chuckled, "If I freak him out or try and make him apologise for something, and let me tell you, he hurt a lot even when he was only knee-high."

"…I got scared," Romano huffed. His hand twitched like it wanted to grab onto Spain again, but he kept it still, "He was acting so much like Spain, but he still didn't remember. I don't fucking know why, but it's reflex. Then your damn nurses came…" he trailed off, shuddering.

"Lovi, what's wrong?" Spain asked, immediately concerned, "Are you alright?"

F-fine, you bastard," Romano spat back, although he couldn't bring himself to look Spain in the eye while he said it. Nowhere near satisfied with that answer, Spain reached over and wrapped his arms around Romano's shoulders, pulling the smaller Nation to his chest, "Hey! What are you doing…I'm not your little henchman anymore…" he muttered the last part, not having the will to try and escape.

"Tell me what happened to him," Spain directed his question to Nurse Wilson, who started slightly. This time, Spain actually looked angry; a terrifying expression on his usually happy face.

"He…" he voice cracked, and she cleared her throat, "He had a bit of an incident about a month and a half ago. He attacked his brother, and the nurses who were on duty that night had to sedate him."

"Sedate him?" Spain repeated, "Lovi and Feliciano get into little arguments all the time, why would they need to do that?"

"We can't allow violence, for reasons I'm sure you can understand. I was told that he was too violent to be calmed down otherwise."

"No one is allowed to hurt Lovino," Spain's eyes narrowed, looking like he was about to grab an axe and remind some nurses that there was a conquistador in their midst. Romano tugged at his shirt, snapping the attention back to him, "Hm?" and as quick as it came, all the fury was gone.

"Stop being such a retard," Romano mumbled, his voice muffled as his one cheek was pressed into the Spaniard's shirt, courtesy of the arms holding him there, "They'll just get you too."

"But Lovi—" another tug on his shirt silenced him.

"Didn't you fucking hear me?" Romano asked, frowning as he pushed himself away from Spain, "Fucking listen!" his eyes were wide despite of his angry expression. He was scared.

Although Spain was notoriously oblivious, when it came to Romano, he didn't miss anything, "Aw, Lovi!" he cooed, hugging him again, "I'm sorry, I'll stop!"

"Damn straight you will!" Romano growled, trying to squirm out of Spain's grasp. Looking up to Nurse Wilson, he said, "I wouldn't try and explain anything else to this moron. We've already filled his brain past capacity."

She chuckled lightly, standing up from the chair she was in, "Of course. Well, if the two of you are going to be okay, I'm going to head back to the others. You may stay in here if you wish, but if you're gone for too long, I'll have to come back."

"Thank you," Spain flashed his signature smile, which she returned.

Nurse Wilson promptly left the room, closing the door gently behind her. The smile never left her face, especially not after she heard the whispered "I missed you, bastard" from Romano as the door clicked shut.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

'_Well, like, now what's gonna happen?'_ Poland thought as he lounged in a chair. The nurse had returned a few minutes ago, but Romano and Spain weren't with her. Naturally, Poland assumed that they were making good use of some 'alone time'. Or at least he hoped they were; Romano seriously needed to get laid and there really wasn't any good gossip in the hospital.

Flicking his hair over his shoulder, he sighed. Wasn't there _anything_ to do in this place?

The people running the hospital still hadn't let them outside, nor had they given them an explanation as to why. Italy had told him that Germany said there were reporters who were taking pictures of them.

"Although that's not such a prob," Poland muttered under his breath, "I'd rather be, like, starring in a porno than waste away in here." Although secretly the idea of strangers taking pictures of him was creepy beyond all belief.

No one else seemed particularly bothered by it though. That was likely because of the whole drama going on with Spain. He had to admit, he was a little confused by it all himself.

It was nearly two months ago that he had woken up in a strange room. Not a single thing in it belonged to him; he'd never even seen it before. He'd run to a small mirror on the wall, looking at his face. Nothing much had changed about him, although he wasn't wearing any makeup, and his hair was shorter than it used to be, although not by much.

It had been one of the scariest moments of his life after 1939. He was naturally scared of strangers, and being dropped right into one's house nearly made him scream right then and there. The humans in the house seemed just as scared about it as he did; they kept calling him by his real name, and saying things that made no sense, since he'd never even seen them before.

If he was just like Spain, then he supposed that it made more sense. It was still all swimming around inside his head: why was he with a human family? Where were his memories, and how long had they been gone? Was he their son? Brother?

He shook his head to clear away the thoughts. He's lived for thousands of years; there was no way that those humans were his actual parents. Their lifespans were just too short.

But something still didn't seem to fit.

"Gah, my brain is totally hurting right now," he groaned, swinging his legs off of the arm of the chair where they had been propped up, "I'm so not meant to be worrying like this, it'll ruin my complexion."

Looking over by the windows, he saw the newest addition to their bunch of misfits leaning against the wall, looking put-out and grouchy. Sweden and Finland were over to the side of the room, talking to themselves in tones too low to overhear. The North Americans were talking to Italy and Germany, while Prussia and France sat on a couch chatting. Korea had apparently found a new pastime in poking Greece awake while Turkey laughed, and China was just trying his best to ignore everyone.

There were seventeen of them now; a far cry from the eleven there had been when he first arrived. And yet out of all of them, Italy was the only one he could really consider a friend. A friend who was currently ignoring him in favour of clinging to that brute, Germany, but what did he expect?

"I really wish that Liet would just hurry up and get here," he pouted, "At least then I'll have someone to, like, hang out with."

With a small sigh, he pushed himself out of his chair and went to see if he could get a decent conversation out of Switzerland.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Spain and Romano returned to the Commons Room only ten minutes later, Spain wearing his casual (and according to Romano, "too fucking happy") smile, and Romano a look of begrudging content, even though his eyes were a little redder than they had been before, a sign that tears were shed.

"Fratello!" Italy called out, letting go of Germany's arm in favour of running across the room to his brother, "Is everything alright now? Ve, Spain, are you going to stay here?"

"I don't think I could leave anyway," Spain didn't seem overly bothered by that fact, "Lovi explained some of it to me, and we should all stick together! Plus, why would I leave when there's cuties like the two of you—ow!" he was cut short when Romano's fist met his stomach.

"Don't say things like that, you jerk!" Romano growled.

"Sorry Lovi…" Spain apologised weakly.

"Yo, Spain!" Prussia yelled from the other side of the room, "Dude, you finally here with us?" the albino made his way towards the small group, France trailing close behind him.

"I must say," France inclined his head, "You gave us all quite a fright. I speak for Gilbert and I both that we're glad to have the trio back together."

"Hey guys!" Spain exclaimed, throwing his arms around the both of them in a hug, "Amigos! It's great to see you too!" he cast another smile over towards the Italian brothers, "I'm going to go catch up with these guys for a bit! Will my little querido be okay without me?"

Romano snorted, "Che. I'll be fine without you, bastard," he retorted, although his voice lacked bite. Italy wound his arms around his brother's reassuringly.

"Ve, come on Romano, we can to talk while big brother Spain's with Prussia and France!" Italy pulled in Romano, taking him away from the other three.

"Ack, wait Veneziano! Why would I wanna talk with you?" Romano protested, but his cheery younger brother heard none of it as he dragged him to the other side of the room.

"Kesesesese, good to know that Romano's back to his old self," Prussia laughed, watching the older of the two struggle in the younger one's grasp, occasionally trying to hit Italy with his crutch.

"Was he really that bad?" Spain asked. He didn't really know much about that went on, only about his Lovi's incident with the nurses and that he had broken his foot.

"Worse," Prussia deadpanned.

"Ouais, he was barely himself," France agreed, shaking his head sadly, "It got much, much worse when Germany and Prussia arrived. Italy now had someone around, but he didn't. That was the night he broke his foot."

"_He_ broke his foot?" Spain repeated incredulously. He had been under the impression that it had been an accident.

France nodded, "None of us really knows how he did it; he won't talk about it even to Italy. But afterwards, he just stopped talking, period. He would barely even eat, and he just sat in his room or out here all day."

"But…" the tone of concern in Spain's voice was unmistakable, "Why would he do that?"

Prussia and France traded a secretive look. They weren't about to break the news to the unbelievably oblivious Spaniard. If he couldn't figure out how much he meant to Romano on his own, then it was up to the Italian himself to tell him.

"The important thing is that he's not dragging his ass around anymore!" Prussia pointed out, messing up Spain's hair, "Cheer up, man!"

Spain chuckled, "I'm not going to drop it, but I'll ask him later."

"That's good," France smiled, "Now, how about we go see if we can convince Korea to 'claim ownership' of one of the nurses!"

"Hell yeah!" Prussia exclaimed, pumping his fists into the air, "The Bad Touch Trio, reunited!"

Spain simply laughed, putting an arm around each of his friends and going along on their insane ride.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Nurse Wilson sighed as she closed the door to the Nurse's Office behind her. She'd used the inter-hospital phone to give a call to Dr. Eticott about the fate of Dr. Carriedo. The older man had been understandably distressed about the whole situation; he hadn't really believed that the other patients could be right.

A bit shaken up, he assured her that he would make the call to the hospital in Bern so that the officials there could contact the doctor-turned-patient's family. She thanked him gratefully; it wasn't an easy job to tell a parent or spouse that their loved one wouldn't be retuning home.

Dr. Eticott had eventually been forced to end the sombre conversation when he received a call on another line.

Breathing out slowly, she massaged the bridge of her nose. She scarcely knew what was going on anymore. The doctors seemed convinced that this was a mental phenomenon, but some things just couldn't be explained by mental illness. She'd admit, at the beginning of the case, she was firm in her beliefs as well, although now she didn't know exactly what to believe in.

For now, she decided, she was going to do her job as the head nurse, and keep the patients safe. She would worry about other things if the time called for it.

Looking towards her patients, her attention was caught by Greece and Turkey. The latter of the two had apparently taken to poking the sleeping Greek in Korea's wake; the Asian had been carted off somewhere by France, Prussia and Spain.

She rolled her eyes and stepped forwards; this could only end badly. From what she'd learned of the patients so far, Greece could sleep like the dead, but she still didn't want to face the results if Turkey was the one to wake him.

"Ahem," she cleared her throat to get the unmasked man's attention. He fixed her with an expectant look, "I would greatly appreciate it if you left him alone."

Turkey gave an exasperated sigh, "Yeesh, yer always givin' me a hard time! I'm just tryin' ta have a little fun in this place!"

"Fun can be had without antagonising Greece," she said quickly.

"That ain't no fun at all!" Turkey protested, "And just lookit 'im! He don't even notice!" he poked the sleeping man one more time for good measure.

"Turkey," she warned, frowning, "Don't think I don't know how the two of you butt heads. You're hoping that he will wake up so that you can fight over it. I wasn't born yesterday."

"Preachin' ta the choir, lady," Turkey chuckled, "Ya don' need ta be talkin' ta me 'bout age, 'cause I've got ya beat. And fer yer information, sure, I want him to wake up so I can kick his ass. The kid gets under my skin like no one else."

"And the same is true vice-versa," Nurse Wilson pointed out, "Why can't you just give each other space?"

"Hahaha, when ya've been fightin' fer centuries, it just tends to happen," Turkey replied, "I raised this here kid in my empire, and he goes 'round being a gorram prick. Just grinds on my last nerve's all."

"I'm sure that the two of you could work something out if you didn't just glare at each other all the time."

"Wishful thinking," Turkey shook his head, "Him an' me're gonna fight forever. He hates me, an' I hate him. Therefore, I spend all'a my spare time annoyin' the fuck outta 'im."

"Not while I'm standing here, you don't," Nurse Wilson stated, pointing away from the sleeping Greek, "I suggest you find something productive to do. Go on."

Narrowing his eyes, Turkey slunk away, muttering to himself about annoying Grecians and oppressive women.

Greece slept on, completely unaware as to what just happened.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

It was shortly after that the head psychiatrist himself, Dr. Eticott, strode into the Commons Room, his white coat flapping noiselessly around his legs. He took in the patients with a look of pity, deepening into a sympathetic frown when his eyes fell on the former Dr. Carriedo.

"What on earth do you suppose he's doing here?" England whispered to America and Canada, looking over his shoulder at the man.

America shrugged, "Who knows man. He's probably just seeing for himself, y'know, about Spain."

"Ouais, that'd make sense," Canada nodded, "He looks pretty stressed out…do you think that something else is going on? England?" he looked to the oldest of the group.

"Unless he tells us, we don't have any way of knowing," England replied.

"Sssh guys, he's coming over this way!" America hushed them.

Indeed, the balding man was making his way towards the middle of the room, and nearer to where they stood. Nurse Wilson stepped to meet him, and they spoke in hushed tones, the doctor holding up a hand and shaking his head, directing his attention to the group of patients, whose attention had certainly been caught.

"Excuse me," he called, making sure that everyone could hear him, "For those of you who haven't yet met me, I am Dr. Eticott, the head psychiatrist at MacFarlane's," his gaze passed more specifically over Switzerland and Spain, with an obvious amount of sadness for the latter.

"Ve, is this about Spain?" Italy asked, looking worried, "Are you gonna take him away?"

Romano frowned as well at the statement, and stepped closer to the Spaniard, leaning half-on his crutch like he might use it as a weapon.

"No, no, nothing like that," the doctor assured, "I have already contacted the necessary people to inform them about his…unfortunate circumstances. They understand and fully support the idea that we keep him here."

Several proverbial hackles were raised at that sentence, Romano and Prussia even going so far as to wear snarls on their faces. This man, certified doctor or not, certainly didn't seem to think of them as people. 'Unfortunate circumstance' was apparently all that they were.

"But the main reason I'm here, apart from checking on the new arrivals, is because I have just been contacted by two other hospitals about incoming patients."

"Two?" Finland repeated, "I don't ever remember them finding two of us at the same time…"

"Not two," Dr. Eticott corrected him, "Four. We are expecting four patients to arrive here early tomorrow."

"Who?" Canada asked, picking up Kumajirou and holding the bear close to his chest. The furry animal looked up at him and echoed the question, "Not now, Kumatataru."

"Well, the first call I received was about a Miss Elizabeta Héderváry from a hospital in Budapest—" he was cut off by Prussia's choked laugher.

"Kesese, oh fuck, just my luck!" the albino threw his hands up into the air, "Hundreds of countries in the world, and they happen to send us the she-male!"

"You deserve every single time she beats you," Switzerland muttered, loud enough for the entire group to hear, earning a few amused chuckles.

"Fuck y'all bitches!" Prussia promptly flipped them the bird.

"Pardon me," Germany intoned, his attention still fixed on the psychiatrist rather than his brother, "Do you mean to say then that there were three more of our friends found in one place?"

"Yes, you are quite right," was his reply, "The second call was from an institution in Latvia. They just had three young men admitted from an orphanage. Apparently, one of them wasn't even in the system for a month before their symptoms all began at the same time."

"It's gotta be Eduard, Toris and Raivis!" Finland exclaimed happily, "Oh, I've missed them so much! Isn't this great, Su-san?" he received a grunt and a nod from the taller man.

"Beautiful," Romano said sarcastically, rolling his eyes, "So we get a bitch and three crybabies. Whoop-dee-fuck."

Dr. Eticott fixed Finland with a scrutinising stare. Apparently he still wasn't ready to accept the fact that, somehow, his patients knew exactly who to expect, "…Yes, Tino, those are the names of the boys who will be coming."

Sweden frowned at the use of his 'wife's' human name, and stepped slightly towards the doctor. Needless to say, it was an intimidating sight.

"Please, calm down," Nurse Wilson said urgently, hoping to perhaps keep Sweden from scaring the psychiatrist to death. She prayed that it would work, even though she knew that she didn't have the strongest of familiarities with Sweden.

"F'ne" Sweden muttered, moving no further. Finland placed a hand on his arm to keep him there, knowing that if worst came to worst, he could probably hold the taller blond back.

"This is absolutely, like, fabulous!" Poland cheered, smiling brightly, "I can't wait! I've missed my little Liet _soooo much_! We're gonna have, like, so many things to talk about!"

"And you said they'd be here…tomorrow morning?" Greece asked, a yawn working its way between his words. He hadn't even bothered to lift himself up from the couch, and simply gazed across the short distance between them.

The doctor nodded, "Their flights leave very early tomorrow, and based on the time differences they should arrive here between nine and ten o'clock," he fiddled momentarily with his glasses, "I thank you for your time, and I'll leave you for now. I daresay we'll be seeing each other again in the future as we work together."

With that said, the greying man bid them all a short wave farewell, leaving the room in much the same way he had come in; silently and with a certain amount of apprehension.

"What the hell did he mean by that?" Switzerland asked suspiciously, glaring at the way the doctor had gone.

"Well, he is your doctor," Nurse Wilson replied kindly, "Under normal circumstance, you'd all have spent a lot more time having sessions with him. The only reason you haven't is because of the rate that more of you guys keep appearing; the administration is on the phone all day accepting calls and declining the more obvious false cases."

"False cases?" England scoffed, "Who the bloody hell would actually _want_ to get locked up in here?"

"It's mostly people looking for clues into your appearances," she explained, "There have been a few reporters around, but it's nothing to be afraid of. People are naturally drawn to things they don't understand." She tried her best to dance around the subject of the press. Thankfully, no one seemed to want to comment on it.

An awkward silence fell over the group of Nations, all of them still slightly wary after the psychologist's visit and dwelling on the small nuances of his words. It was a tense atmosphere in the room now; an unwelcome change from the amiable peace of earlier.

"Well," Nurse Wilson clapper her hands to try and diffuse the silence, "That's enough of that! How about, for the next hour or so, you can take turns trading stories; I'll even listen if you want me to. I think it'll be a great way to get your minds off of things."

A few smiles brightened the room, trying their hardest to overpower the feeling of anxiety that presided over it.

"Ohmigosh, like, I have the most totally _amazing_ story ever—"

Well, at least _one_ of them knew how to kill a depressing mood.

**-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-**

"**Querido" – "Darling" (God I love it when Spain uses this word…)**

"**Ouais" – "Yeah"**

**Not really sure if I liked the beginning of this one, but I think I got it back up to speed by midway through the chapter.**

**Hope you can all see things starting to change in the hospital…**


	18. DixSept: Écrit par une Idiote

**Hey guys. Sorry this is a bit late. Schoolwork and birthdays and cosplays and no time for writing got in my way. I hate real life.**

**I hope you all enjoy the chapter though, it's pretty long. :) And fairly Poland-centric, now that I look back on it…**

**IMPORTANT: Review Replies are still broken, so I've only been sending messages to those of you who: (a) asked a question that I needed to answer and (b) had PMing enabled. **

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

_**Folie à Plusiers**_

Dix-Sept: Écrit par une Idiote

_Seventeen: Written by an Idiot_

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

If any of the Nations had any intentions of sleeping in the next morning, they were sorely disappointed. The paper-thin walls of the hospital didn't allow for anyone peace, especially not when Poland was awake before sunrise.

"Fer Chrissakes, ya li'l brat!" Turkey scowled, wrapping his pillow around his head, "Can't ya just shut yer gorramned mouth fer once in yer life? Summ'a us are tryin' ta sleep here!"

Turkey, having the misfortune to be sharing a room with the excited Pole, bore the brunt of the torture. That is not to say that the others weren't any less grouchy.

"I can't believe….that I agree with him," Greece groaned from the room beside them. Not even he could sleep through Poland's chatter.

"But guyyys," Poland whined, walking around his room, fiddling with his hair, "Liet's, like, coming today! I wanna be totally ready! The least you guys could do is, like, talk to me about it! I'm so stressed that I'm gonna get wrinkles, it's _so not fab!_"

"Aiya, Poland," China's voice came from his room, "We _have _been talking to you, aru! For the last half an hour!"

"—and we're tired as _fuck!_" Prussia's voice was faint, his voice coming from further down the hall.

"I don't care!" Poland huffed, stomping his foot, "If I can't get my beauty sleep, then like, neither can you!"

"Poland, please, can't we all just go back to bed?" Finland asked, sounding very tired, "If we don't get back to sleep, the nurses will hear us."

"Dear fucking god, if they do, let that poncey blonde be the first one they take," Romano prayed, curled up in his bed in the room across the hall from said 'poncey-blonde".

"Ve, Romano, that wasn't very nice!" Italy gasped, just barely stifling a yawn.

"_See_? That's how fucked up this is!" Romano continued, "If my stupid brother and Greece can't sleep through this, you _know_ that someone needs to _get a hint and shut his damned mouth!_"

"Like, don't shout at me like that!" Poland retorted, "It's not even that early! The sun's already starting to like, come out!"

"Well, it wasn't when you started whining to us," England replied, "I swear to god, if I don't get a cup of tea, I'm going to kill someone…" his voice dropped steadily lower as he spoke.

Canada squeaked in fear, hugging Kumajirou to his chest like a shield. Sometimes, sharing a room with England could be terrifying.

"Ev'n Hanat'mago's hid'n und'r the b'd," Sweden murmured, sounding slightly cross (although it wasn't a far cry from his regular voice).

"Uh, what was that?" Poland asked, "I can't understand a single word that you say!"

"He said that HANATAMAGO'S HIDING UNDER MY BED!" Finland exploded, followed by a loud thump that was either him kicking the wall, or him throwing something rather heavy at it.

"Shit man, now you've done it!" America exclaimed, "You've got a Winter War coming your way if you don't just get your ass into bed!"

"Please Poland, can't we just all go back to sleep?" even Spain sounded frustrated.

"NO!" Poland cried petulantly, "Why aren't you guys, like, anxious over this or something?"

"Probably because we don't act like little girls getting ready for their first date," Switzerland bit out venomously, his underlying threat coming across clear regardless of him being in the furthest room down the hall, "And if we ever get out of this place, the first thing I'm going to do is put a bullet in your ass."

"I'll help!" Korea offered, his head covered by his pillow, "Waking up this early was _so_ not invented in Korea…"

"Like, up yours!" Poland replied indignantly, creating a uproar amongst the other sleep-deprived Nations.

"Fuck this shit!" Prussia yelled, Gilbird cheeping angrily along with him, "We don't have to take this from you!"

"Oh yeah?" Poland challenged, "I'm sorry, but like, _who exactly_ was it that kicked your ass, Mr. Teutonic Knights?"

"Irrelevant!" Prussia denied.

"Bros, how 'bout the _both_ of you shut up, because it's freaking stupid o'clock in the morning _on a Saturday!_" America griped, his loud voice echoing down the hall.

"Why on earth does it matter what day it is?" England replied, "We do the same bloody thing everyday!"

"You guys I can't even hear myself think!" Spain groaned.

"You don't even think at all!" England and Romano shouted back in unison.

"Oy, don't you get started with me, England!" Spain shouted back, anger evident in his voice.

"Oh, what was that?" England mocked, "Is someone still butthurt about the time their armada got its ass kicked?"

"Fuck off, eyebrows," Romano growled in Spain's defence, kicking the wall that separated his room from England and Canada's.

The mess of shouting and stomping only grew louder and more rampant as more and more of the Nations joined in, hurling taunts and reopening feuds that ought to have been left alone decades before.

"Mein Gott, Can't everyone just _be quiet!_" Germany shouted over all of the voices, finally having been angered enough to speak out, "Just SHUT UP!"

The silence that fell over the hallway was deadly, and Germany knew that most of the Nations were directing hateful glares in his direction. Without the deafening racket, the patients were able to hear the fast-paced _click click click_ of heels on linoleum signalling the approach of one of the nurses.

"Now you've done it," Poland hissed, set on having the last word.

"O—mmph!" Prussia opened his mouth to shoot back a thoughtful profanity, but the yell was forced back down his throat when Germany clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Not this time," Germany muttered under his breath, "We're going to be in enough trouble as it is."

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Nurse Wilson sighed heavily as she made her way along the hallway that lead to the patient's rooms, feeling very much like the mother of several misbehaving infants.

She had only just arrived for her shift at seven o'clock when she ran into the security guards. Apparently, they were just on their way to the elevators, having been contacted by some of the overnight nurses about a ruckus coming from the patient's rooms. Nurse Wilson had wasted no time in telling the guards to return to their duties, and that she would see to the patients herself.

And oh, what a ruckus is was. She hadn't even stepped out of the elevator before she could hear the yells echoing down the hall. Every patient's voice was mixed into the yelling. She groaned, cursing whatever had happened to start such an argument.

"_Just SHUT UP!"_ Germany's voice reached her ears as she turned around a corner. The Nations fell silent, save for a few indiscernible whispers.

When she stood in the middle of the hallway, she stopped. The rooms around her were dead quiet, more than likely waiting for whatever wrath they had incurred.

"And just _what_, might I ask, is going on here?" she asked, putting on her best exasperated voice, "You do realise that it's barely after seven?"

"It's Poland's fault!" America's voice answered her.

"The damn brat just won't shaddup!" Turkey chimed in.

"Hey! No fair, teaming up on me!" Poland whined, "I told you, I just couldn't sleep!"

Nurse Wilson crossed her arms over her chest, even though none of them could see her, "I don't want to hear you pointing blame at anyone. From what I heard, each and every one of you was part of it. Except for Germany," she amended, "Thank you for shutting them up."

"Any time," Germany's voice sounded slightly miserable. He probably had a headache.

"Well, either way, you're all awake now," she sighed, pressing a button on the pager clipped to her waist, "Food won't be ready for an hour, but you can hit the showers and get dressed for the time being."

She grabbed the keys attached to her lanyard and unlocked the first door, being met with Romano's disgruntled expression and Italy looking ashamed.

"Ve, thanks," Italy said quietly, walking down the hallway (in the opposite direction of the showers) to stand by the door to Germany's room. Romano rolled his eyes, deigning to stay where he was until Spain's room was unlocked.

As quickly as she could, she released the pairs of Nations. Canada and England, Greece and China, America and France, Turkey and Poland (who everyone threw a look of blame towards), Sweden and Finland, Korea and Switzerland, Germany and Prussia, and finally Spain.

Just as Spain had joined up with Romano and headed off towards to showers, four other nurses made their way out of the elevators, looking slightly panicked.

"What was it you paged us about?" a tall brunet asked, watching the patients over his shoulder.

"It's nothing bad, Michael. I just need some extra sets of eyes to keep a watch on these guys," she explained, "The guards told me what was going on. It's been dealt with, but there was really no point in leaving them in their rooms for another hour; they would only start bickering again."

"Do you want me to head downstairs and unlock the Commons Room?" another asked.

"Yes please. That would be very helpful."

The group of nurses disbanded, one heading back to the elevators, and the rest to oversee the patients, just to make sure that no other fights broke out.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Needless to say, no one wanted to sit with Poland at breakfast that morning.

"Fuck, West, I think you bruised my face," Prussia grumbled, shoving a piece of toast into his mouth.

"If you didn't act like such a child," Germany replied sternly, "Then I wouldn't be forced to shut you up."

"Ve, Prussia, I don't see a bruise…" Italy remarked, looking confused.

"Ja, that's because he's whining," Germany sighed, ignoring Prussia's offended exclamation in favour of eating his food.

"You're both useless potato bastards," Romano griped, staring down at his plate, "I don't even know why I'm sitting with you."

"Aw, don't be like that, Lovi!" Spain pouted, throwing an arm around Romano's shoulder, "You're sitting here because you're a nice person and we're your friends!"

"Like hell!" Romano shook his head, shoving the Spaniard away from him, "Just eat your damn breakfast."

"Oh, just give up on him, mon ami," France, who was seated across from Prussia, sighed.

"Shut it, frog licker!" Romano hissed, barely refraining from upturning his scrambled eggs on the Frenchman.

"Vee…why can't we all just get along..?" Italy whispered hopelessly.

"Just ignore them. It's what we get for sitting with them," Germany said.

At a smaller table, things were going just as hectically;

"America, for the last time, stop speaking with your mouth full! It's bloody disgusting!" England said angrily, throwing his napkin across the table at the blond.

"Sorry!" America laughed, thankfully after swallowing his food, "But anyway, my story just had to be told; it was pretty epic, right Mattie?"

"Eh…whatever you say, Al," Canada chuckled, not wanting to get dragged into the middle of anything. Wasn't America supposed to be trying to make England _like_ him? He was doing a pretty horrible job of it so far.

"Bro, you're supposed to back me up!" America whined.

"You are so immature!" England muttered under his breath, "And you wonder why I can't accept that you're an adult. You never matured into one!"

"Yeah, and I'll bet you were always this stuffy and boring even as a kid!" America retorted without thinking.

Thankfully, Canada held his hand up between the two before England could successfully stab the American with his plastic fork.

"Guys, calm down," he pleaded, "Al, you're being kind of a jerk, and England, can't you just be thankful that papa decided to eat with his friends?"

"Well,I—" England stuttered, before sighing and thinking better of his retort, "I suppose I could give it a go. I apologise, Matthew," he purposely avoided apologising to America.

Canada kicked his brother under the table.

"Er, yeah…sorry Igg—er, Arthur," America mumbled.

"You're forgiven," England replied without looking at him, simply returning to his food like a well-behaved gentleman. Thankfully, he was seated on the opposite side from the brothers, and couldn't hear them as the conversation became more private.

"Al, I hate to break it to you, but you're doing a crappy job at getting England to like you," Canada leant over and whispered in America's ear, "He's never going to like you if you don't _try_ to give him a break."

"It's not that easy!" America whispered back, "I can't help it! I'm like a stupid teenager around their first crush; I just keep fucking up."

"Well then, try harder," Canada replied, "Go talk to him later today, and be courteous about it!"

"Damn bro, you seem to be the expert here," America grinned, "Although if that were the case, I bet you'd be hopping beds between Prussia and France every other night!"

Canada cuffed his brother on the head, "Ew! Need I remind you that I am not the one with a romantic crisis right now? Besides, my relations with France have _never_ been that way, and you know it."

"Mmhmm, just like everyone knows that _something_ went down with you and Cuba during the Cold War, and you and Russia every freakin' hockey season, and you and Prussia after World War Two…"

"Shut up, eh!" Canada squeaked, "Stop making me seem like the slut here, Al! Besides, what about you and Japan? And Vietnam, and Philippines? Plus, everyone _knows_ about how you threw around some sexual favours in return for Alaska…"

"That was supposed to be a fucking secret!" America groaned, smacking his forehead, "Russia told you didn't he, that bastard! That was a one-time business deal; it doesn't even count!"

"What in the hell are the two of you talking about?" England cut in, just now cluing into the conversation, "What doesn't count?"

"Errrrm…" Canada floundered for a suitable excuse.

"We were playing rock-paper-scissors!" America lied on the spot, "And Mattie just keeps throwing rock!"

"Then why don't you just throw paper?" England raised an eyebrow.

"…I don't know," America finished lamely.

England gave a small snort of amusement as he sipped his tea, and Canada and America traded a look, infinitely glad that England hadn't heard what they were talking about.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"Please Poland, I'm sorry for yelling earlier, but you really need to calm down," Finland pleaded, stroking Poland's hair as the other lied across the couch with his head in the smaller Nation's lap.

"But, like, I just can't!" Poland moaned, rubbing at his eyes with his perfectly kept hands, "I'm just so worried! Eduard and Raivis are, like, totally awesome friends, and Eliza's, like, my female soulmate, but it's been so long since I've seen Toris! What should I, like, say to him?"

"Why do you have to worry about what to say to him?" Finland asked, continuing to pet the other's hair. He thanked his lucky stars that he was the mothering type (after he had some caffeine in him) and that years of living with Peter had given him patience of steel.

"I don't know!" Poland cried, "I mean, I know I'm not a total chick or anything, but we've been, like, 'girlfriends' for centuries! Like, BFFs! Even when he totally ignored me to be all lovestruck over Belarus, which is totally crazy, amirite?"

"Erm…well, I guess that Toris never had the best taste in women…" Finland chuckled nervously, not understanding how _anyone_ could want to be close to Belarus in _that way._

"Yeah, but it's not like you have much of an opinion," Poland rolled his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Finland pouted, his hands halting their movements.

"Well, you haven't been single for like, centuries, right?" Poland asked, "And anyways, it's not even, like, the same because you're not into girls. I'm totally not either but that's beside the point."

"I take offence to that!" Finland exclaimed, "And Sweden and I aren't even….okay, I'm not going to finish that sentence, but we definitely weren't _anything_ back then!"

"But like, no one would go near you anyways, because that guy's a total beast and you were, like, practically marked 'back off'," Poland said as if it were the most obvious thing, "And you still, like, totally didn't deny being into dudes."

Finland snorted, "Come on Poland," he sighed, "How many of us are actually picky about that? There aren't a lot of females to go around, and most of them are…scary. The straightest Nation I know is probably Austria, and even _he _was married to Spain for a while."

"Point taken," Poland sighed, sitting up, "But Liet's only ever had eyes for, like, that crazy she-bear! He doesn't even notice anyone else!"

"He doesn't notice _you_, you mean?" Finland smiled serenely.

"…why'd you have to like, say it like that?" Poland said quietly, "He doesn't need to know, 'kay? He's been, like, my best friend for so long, and it's totally not worth it to lose him over. If he can't see it on his own, than it sucks for him."

"But if he doesn't, then it sucks for you," Finland replied, "And I'm sure that Lithuania feels the same for you. Let's be frank Poland; you're not the easiest person to get along with, and if he didn't really like you, I don't think he'd put up with you."

"You're totally making this sound like a Germany and Italy scenario."

Finland laughed, "If Lithuania was even remotely muscular and macho, then maybe. Listen Poland, have you ever told him that you like him?"

"Like, totally," Poland frowned, "I tell him and I act all flirty, but he never seems to get it…"

"So basically, what you're saying is that you act the exact same way you do around everybody else?" Finland raised an eyebrow, "Feliks, you're naturally flamboyant, so maybe if you think you're being forthright, he doesn't realise it."

"You think so?" Poland asked, mulling the idea over in his head, "So you're saying that I need to, like, march right up to him and tell him that I've been, like, totally fawning over him for the past three centuries?"

"Pretty much," Finland chuckled lightly, "But give him a bit of time first. You don't want to throw something like that at him the moment he arrives at the hospital; talk about stress. Wait a day or two."

"Gaaahhhh…" Poland breathed, standing up from the couch, "How am I supposed to wait?"

"You've held on for a couple centuries, haven't you?" Finland asked.

Poland sighed, staring out the window. It was just past ten in the morning, and the early sunlight was streaming in through the glass. Any minute now.

"Sadly," he mumbled, kicking at the floor.

"Well then it won't be—" Finland trailed off, head turning to the doorway to the Commons Room, "Hear that? You might get a bit of relief."

Surely, down the hallway came the clack of heels against the flooring that the Nations had become so accustomed to hearing. The sounds were still faint, but unmistakable.

"Hm?" Poland perked up, listening, "No, there's only two sets of feet. It can't be Toris."

Rocking back and forth on his heels, Poland stepped over to the doorway, peeking out into the hall. Nearing the room was a tall male doctor, looking rather stern and impassive, and he was keeping close to the side of the petite, brunette form of Hungary.

"Hungary!" he called down the hall. The brunette's head lifted, a bright smile spreading across her face.

"Poland!" she laughed, breaking into a run, which left her attending doctor looking rather flustered.

Laughing, Poland spread his arms and Hungary jumped into them, squealing in joy as she picked him up and spun him around in a tight hug.

"It's like, totally great to know you're as strong as ever!" Poland smiled, looking down at the girl, "And you've still got your flower barrettes! Where did you find them?"

"It was by chance!" she said, toying with the hairclips, "It wasn't long after I woke up, I found them at a street-side vendor; how could I pass up the chance to buy them?"

"That's so totally cool!" Poland exclaimed, then pausing as if a thought had just occurred to him, "Like, c'mon, everyone's waiting for you!" he took her by the hand and led her into the Commons Room.

"Hello men!" Hungary called as they stepped over the threshold, "It's good to know you're all as handsome as you were before!"

"Hungary!" Italy cried, sprinting across the room to hug the shorter woman, "Ve, I've missed you so much!"

"Aw, I've missed you too, darling," Hungary replied, stroking his hair, "Now where's your man? I know I saw his head of blond hair when I walked in here…"

"Hello, Hungary," Germany coughed politely, "You seem well."

"How could I be any less?" she smiled.

"Wouldn't take much!" Prussia interjected, still a good distance across the room, "Your ugly mug doesn't register as 'well' in my books, sister!"

"Excuse me?" Hungary's voice was cold as ice, "Excuse me, _Gilbert_, but would you like to come a bit closer and say that to my face?"

Prussia's self-confident smirk faltered a little. Even if Hungary didn't have a frying pan, he wouldn't lay his life on the line like that.

"I'm glad we understand each other," she grinned.

"Ummm….is this a bad time?"

Jumping a little at the meek voice, the Nations found the doorway filled with the three missing members of their group. The Baltic States, looking suitably confused and apprehensive, seemed to be questioning their luck to have arrived in the middle of a fight between Hungary and Prussia.

"We're not about to get caught up in another tantrum, are we?" Latvia shook, speaking without thinking first.

"Latvia, shut up!" Estonia hissed worriedly, "You're being rude!"

"S-shouldn't we just begin by saying hello?" Lithuania asked, peering in over Latvia's head.

"Liet!" Poland nearly shrieked, jumping from Hungary's side to latch onto Lithuania, while the other two Baltics wisely moved out of the blonde's way.

"It's nice to see you again, too…" Lithuania choked out around the punishing grip the Pole had around his neck. The brunet's face was steadily going red, although it was impossible to tell whether that was from embarrassment or lack of oxygen.

"Ohmigosh, you have _no idea_ how long I've been waiting for you!" Poland exclaimed, "I've got, like, so much to tell you! No one here listens to me like you do, like, seriously!"

"Alright, Feliks," Lithuania gave a huge sigh as he was released from Poland's grasp, "I've missed you too."

"Like, of course you have!" Poland nodded, "What would you do with yourself without me?"

Estonia chuckled under his breath, silently thanking whatever almighty being that lurked above that he didn't have to deal with Poland. Even Latvia seemed to find the situation funny, although his laughs only served to make his shakes worse.

"I-is this everyone?" Latvia asked, standing on his tiptoes to look around at the Nations in the room, "Peter's not here, is he?"

"He most certainly is not," England replied curtly, causing Latvia to flinch.

"Oh…sorry for asking."

The two doctors who had come with the patients were left rather excluded and _very_ confused.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Nurse Wilson let the door to the Nurse's Office click shut behind her, shuffling through the new paperwork that she had just typed up for Spain. She looked up from her work after she was certain that they were all in good order, shocked to see the large crowd of patients near the doors.

"Excuse me," she called as she got closer, seeing the new patients and the doctors who had come with them, "I'm Ms. Wilson, the head nurse, and I'd like to welcome all of you to MacFarlane's."

She looked at each of the new patients in turn. The girl was her biggest surprise; it was strange since she had become used to all the patients being male. The other three looked fairly normal except for the short blond, who was nearly a foot shorter than herself and shaking convulsively.

"It's good to be here," one of the doctors returned, voice thick with an Eastern accent. Politely, she shook hands with them, "We are to give the files to you, yes?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied, receiving envelopes from each doctor and extracting the top page from each.

**Elizabeta Hèdervàry, "Hungary"**

**Age:** 22

**Gender:** Female

**Height:** 5'2"

**Birthday: **June 8th

**Hair Colour: **Brown

**Eye Colour: **Green

**Toris Lorinaitis, "Lithuania"**

**Age: **19

**Gender: **Male

**Height: **5'5"

**Birthday: **February 16th

**Hair Colour: **Brown

**Eye Colour: **Green

**Eduard Von Bock, "Estonia"**

**Age: **17

**Gender: **Male

**Height: **5'6"

**Birthday: **February 24th

**Hair Colour: **Blond

**Eye Colour: **Blue

**Raivis Galante, "Latvia"**

**Age:** 15

**Gender: **Male

**Height: **4'5"

**Birthday: **November 18th

**Hair Colour: **Blond

**Eye Colour: **Blue

'_Fifteen years old and not even five feet tall?'_ she thought, staring at the sheet in disbelief. That couldn't be natural. Shuffling through her papers, she pulled out the file she had made for Spain.

**Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, "Spain"**

**Age: **25

**Gender:** Male

**Height: **5'8"

**Birthday: **February 12th

**Hair Colour: **Brown

**Eye Colour: **Green

His seemed normal for a man of his size, but all of these newly arrived men (or boys, rather, for they were all so young) were below average in terms of height, particularly Raivis, and although it wasn't listed, she was willing to bet that they were all underweight as well.

"Beg pardon," she called, walking away from the group of Nations. The doctor for the boys, a mousy woman, turned to her.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice even sounding mouse-like.

"I was just wondering about your small boy, Raivis?" she inquired, "What is wrong with him? He hasn't stopped shaking and she's so small…"

"Child abuse," the doctor replied, "He was rescued just over one month ago, but he had been beaten and starved before that. We believe that genetics and malnutrition are cause for his shortness. Of course, he doesn't remember any of that now."

"And is the shaking from the abuse?"

"No, no…that didn't start until they noticed his mental problems," the lady shook her head, "He also apparently began asking for vodka about that time, which the orphanage thought was strange."

"Strange indeed…" Nurse Wilson muttered to herself, thanking the doctor for her help.

She supposed that this was another mystery that the patients would have to explain to her themselves.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

After the noise from the arrivals of Hungary, Lithuania, Estonia and Latvia had died down, the Nations spread out amongst themselves again, chatting idly. Poland had herded Lithuania off into a corner to talk, and Estonia was keeping a close eye on Latvia, who had taken up talking with Korea.

Glancing about the room, America assumed that this was his time to act.

"Yo, England," he called, slouching into a chair beside the Briton, who was staring out the window.

"What do you want?" England replied, his tone showing that he expected the worst.

"Hey, you don't need to get like that," America held his hands up in front of himself, "I kinda wanted to tell you that I felt really stupid this morning. For acting like a kid."

"Honestly, I wasn't surprised," England sighed, turning to face America, "After all, even after over two centuries of knowing you, you never grew up one bit."

"Nah, I grew up plenty," America shrugged, "But it's no fun actin' like an adult all the time! I like to stay young and keep up with my own pop culture, y'know?"

"Understandable, although it's been making me feel like I've constantly got an annoying little brother in my hair," England huffed, "And believe me, with Sealand, I don't have any hair left for other siblings."

"But I ain't your brother anymore," America pointed out, "I mean, sure, I was at one point, but I've been my own country for nearly two centuries now, right? And it was never by blood in the first place."

"I realise that," England said, wisely overlooking America's terrible grammar, "You don't need to tell me that. Matthew already read me the riot act about you not being my sibling."

"Mattie did?" America laughed, "I didn't think he had it in him. So, got any thoughts on the matter?"

"Matter of what? Of you two not being my brothers?" England asked, "Hardly. I think I've known for a while, but it puts it into perspective when someone else tells you so," he paused, eyes narrowing, "But don't take it to heart; I still think you're an immature git."

"You're not exactly a ball of sunshine either, no climate-related puns intended," America pointed out, "Anyways, part of why I came over was to ask you about a deal."

"What kind of deal?" England's eyebrows furrowed, crossing his arms across the armrest of his chair.

"I think that you could try to loosen up a bit," America began, holding up a hand when England opened his mouth to retort, "And in return, I'mma try to stop grinding on your nerves so much. How's that sound?"

England chewed on his bottom lip, rolling the proposal over in his head, "While I honestly doubt that you will stop getting on my nerves," he replied, "I agree that I could loosen up a little. Are you and your brother planning something together, because I swear he pulled the same thing on me last week…"

"Nope, definitely not," America laughed, "But great minds think alike and all that jazz. So, shake on it?" he held out his hand.

"Agreed," England shook, "Although if you Welch on your end of the bargain, I'm going to hex you into the next millennium."

"Aww, there's the Iggy we all know and love," America teased, stumbling _ever_ so slightly over the word 'love'. Thankfully, England didn't seem to notice.

"Don't call me that, prat," England punched him lightly on the arm, face pulled into a frown, "You're not off to a great start."

America winced, remembering how Canada had told him the same thing earlier that day, "Sorry 'bout that. I guess this'll be harder than I thought."

"Holy shit, you're actually apologising without being told to," England threw up an arm in sarcastic shock, "Stop the bloody world!"

"Wait, are you actually…" America's eyebrows quirked, pools of bright blue watching England suspiciously, "Damn, you're actually making jokes! When did you grow a sense of humour?"

"Oh, it's always been there, but it's only at others' expenses," England replied cheekily, "Thankfully, there's no shortage of idiots in this place."

"Ouch," America sucked on his teeth, "'Dunno what hurts more, my brain or my pride."

"What brain?" England asked to no one in particular, looking in the opposite direction, "I was under the impression that you lost it some time ago."

America laughed, leaning forward in his chair and talking back excitedly, England shooting a well-prepared quip back to every sentence. And so went the first somewhat civilised conversation between the two Anglophone Nations for the better part of a century.

Canada smiled, watching them from the middle of the room. For an idiot, his brother sure was lucky.

**-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-**

**Done done done dooonnnnneeee.**

**This will be the best time to say: NO UPDATE NEXT WEEK.**

**I REPEAT: THERE WILL BE ****NO**** UPDATE NEXT WEEK!**

**Gone away to Toronto for Anime North, and havin' myself some good times!**

**Cosplay of the year: Shizuo, bitches! CoS out!**


	19. DixHuit: Tout est Changant

**Sorry guys. June came around, and it was like my entire school realised "Oh, shit, we've only got three weeks left to load these kinds with projects!" and so they did. I had 4 exam sections and a graded dialogue for French, 3 exam sections and 2 article translations for German, 2 essays and a test in English, and an essay and culminating project on the Ottoman Empire for Ancient Civilizations class.**

**And after all those were done, I still had all of my official exams. I went into French with a 91%, German with a 96%, English with a 90%, and Ancient Civilizations with an 86%. Fuck getting good grades; it doesn't give me enough time to write. On a lighter note; now officially done Grade 11!**

**And to top it all off, my internet has been down for the past two weeks, and it's STILL down! I'm uploading this chapter from a public computer in a fucking library, so I won't be able to reply to anything very fast.**

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

_**Folie à Plusiers**_

Dix-Huit: Tout est Changant

_Eighteen: Everything is Changing_

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Nurse Wilson waited for two weeks, and without any more calls from patients, she finally decided that the Baltics had been given enough time to settle in. She had been troubled about the three boys ever since their arrival; their jerkiness and timidity could only be brought on by pain and fear, and since, like all the other patients, they only remembered what their personae knew, it must have been caused by another patient.

"Excuse me," she said quietly, tapping Lithuania lightly on his shoulder. He looked into her face warily, although she could see frustration in his eyes.

"Like, what's up?" Poland asked her before Lithuania could speak, "Liet's, like, totally getting his ass kicked at chess right now."

"Poland, no one can win chess against you…" Lithuania sighed harshly, chewing absently on his thumbnail.

"I was wondering if you would be willing to answer some questions?" she asked, "You don't need to if you don't want to."

"Questions?" he asked, his eyes seeming to look everywhere but at her, "Just questions?"

Nurse Wilson frowned, "Of course, what else were you expecting?"

Lithuania shook his head, "Nothing. Of course I'll answer your questions. Sorry Feliks, I'll finish the game with you later, okay?" he stood from his chair, waving an awkward goodbye to the blonde boy.

She noticed that he sighed again as they walked away, and began massaging the bridge of his nose, "Frustrated?"

"You have no idea," Lithuania admitted, "Poland isn't someone you want to play chess with. Ever," his hands began to fiddle with the bottom of his shirt.

"He's eccentric, I've noticed that much," she chuckled, trying to act friendly and unimposing. She led them over to the side of the Commons Room, away from the handful of other patients who were present. Offering him a chair, she sat down beside him.

"So…what were these questions?" he asked shyly.

"Well, first off, I was wondering about you and the other two," she began, "It's not hard to see how nervous the three of you are. Is there something wrong, or has something happened?"

"Hm?" Lithuania paused, still playing with his shirt, "I-it's nothing really. We were all part of the Soviet Union for a long time and…well, it wasn't the nicest house to live in. It was cold, and sometimes there wasn't much food, but most of the time it was just Russia keeping us on our toes. We're all a bit cautious after that."

"Russia?" Nurse Wilson picked up on the mention of another Nation, "What did he do?"

"I-it wasn't so much what he did, as what he was capable of," Lithuania trembled, "Mostly it was little things; locking us out of the house in a blizzard, starving us…the beatings were only when something was really wrong. He thought it was funny, like a little kid pulling the wings off of a fly."

Nurse Wilson frowned, not liking the sound of this new possible patient, "And you couldn't just leave? Did he do that to all of you?"

"We had nowhere else to go," he shrugged, pulling his arms around himself, "I have known Russia for a very long time; he wasn't always like that. I worry about leaving him alone. He could hurt himself, so that's why I stay. He left the other two alone most of the time. I was his favourite. Estonia only got threats and stuff, and Latvia got his head pressed in…I was the only one he ever really hurt."

"Lithuania, what did he do to you?" she asked, fearing what his answer would be.

"When…" Lithuania swallowed, "When he was really mad, sometimes he would snap and hit me, just once. For Russia, once was all it took. He's really sick. Once he hit me the first time, he had to do it again…and again, and again. Mostly on my back; the scars are still there."

Nurse Wilson knew that he had no scars on his back; every patient had gone through a physical evaluation when they were first admitted to a hospital. However, she had no doubt that _he_ knew that he had scars. But what was real to Lithuania was not what was real to her.

"But I think that Latvia got the worst," Lithuania continued talking, which surprised her, "He was always small, but Russia liked to press down on his head whenever he was around. He got paranoid, and then he started crying a lot, and then the shaking started. After the shaking, sometimes I would go to check on him and find him drinking himself into a stupor," he shook his head, "He just couldn't handle it."

Nurse Wilson looked across the room to Latvia, who was reading a book with a small frown on his face. His trembles were barely noticeable. She couldn't understand how someone could do that to a child, never mind that none of this was real.

"Thank you for telling me," she said, "Russia seems to be very dangerous. If he shows up, it would be for the best to have him put in a separate unit."

Lithuania looked up, meeting her eyes for the first time. His green eyes were wide with fear and concern, "You don't have to do that, miss," he insisted, "He is okay when he's around the others," he gestured to the other Nations populating the Commons Room, "It's when he's alone that he's dangerous. He can't control himself when he gets like that!"

"You would rather I leave someone who has abused you free?" she asked, astounded.

"Please," Lithuania nodded, managing a weak smile, "He gets better when he's around people. You could ask anyone; they'll tell you that he's scary, but he doesn't need to be locked up."

Unsure of the proper course of action, Nurse Wilson nodded distractedly, still trying to straighten things out in her head. Lithuania seemed convinced that this Russia wouldn't hurt him while there were other patients around, but she wasn't sure if she could live with herself if he was wrong. What if something happened and he ended up severely injured? She would have failed to keep them safe.

"Alright, Lithuania," she said after a moment, "Or…what was it that Poland called you? Liet?"

Lithuania laughed, "That's just a Poland thing. In my language, I am _Lietuva_. In his mind, this automatically shortens to Liet," he sighed wistfully, "But hey, that's Poland for you."

"You're lucky to have a friend like him," she smiled, glad that the subject had changed, "You were all he talked about before you get here, you know. I assume you've been close for a long time."

"Centuries," Lithuania confirmed, blushing lightly, "I hope he only said nice things."

"Please, Lithuania, there couldn't possibly be anything bad to say about you."

"We all do things," he shrugged sheepishly, "None of us are completely innocent, ma'am. We're not evil, but we've all had to behave differently to protect ourselves and serve our bosses. Poland and I used to be quite a superpower in the east…although I'll bet that Prussia would like to deny that."

Patting him on the shoulder, Nurse Wilson stood from her chair, "Well, you're not bad in my eyes. Thank you for your time, Lithuania. You can go finish your game of chess now; I'm sure Poland is waiting."

"Y-you're welcome," he nodded his head politely, before taking off, back to where Poland was absently playing with his blonde locks by the chessboard.

Watching him go, Nurse Wilson felt the compulsion to reach for her clipboard, and write down what he had told her. She blinked when she realised that she hadn't been carrying it with her for weeks; she hadn't felt the need to analyse and dissect the Nations. In fact, most of the things they did didn't seem in the least bit strange to her anymore. Canada's 'bear' that he supposedly had hanging off of his arm was almost ignorable!

Furrowing her brows and scratching at the back of her head, she turned and walked over to the other side of the room, where she could watch the whole group easier.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Growling with discontent, Switzerland crossed his legs and looked pointedly away from Hungary, who looked at him beseechingly.

"Come on, just lighten up a bit!" she exclaimed, pinching his cheek, "You're dampening the whole atmosphere over here."

He withstood the urge to bite her, and slapped her hand away from his face, "I have nothing to say to you, Hungary. Go bother Prussia."

"What, you mean actually go near him _willingly_? Are you nuts? Oh, wait, I guess that's all of us now, isn't it?" she spread her arms wide, gesturing to the hospital around them, "Besides, Switzerland, sitting in the corner every day, brooding, isn't going to help anything."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Switzerland snapped back harshly, "Liechtenstein is still out there somewhere. I shouldn't be stuck in here; I should be back out there, looking for her!"

"And what if she's not even there?" Hungary asked, "I heard all about what happened with Spain from Italy. All I'm saying is that your sister might not even be 'awake' yet, okay?" she raised a finger at the dirty look that Switzerland shot her.

"I could still be there!" he shook his head, "How hard could it be to find her; it's not like her home's very big."

"And freak out a normal little girl?" Hungary asked sceptically.

"I…I…" Switzerland hissed through his teeth and looked down into his lap, breathing deeply. "Fuck this. I don't even know what's going on anymore, and I don't like the look of this place. You weren't here when the head doctor guy came down to see Spain. He was shady. I don't trust him."

"Hate to break this to you, but you don't trust anyone," Hungary poked his arm, "They don't call you xenophobic for nothing."

"Believe me, I'm not exaggerating," Switzerland glanced up, catching her green eyes with his own, "Something's going on in this place."

Sighing, Hungary dropped into a recliner beside Switzerland, "All the more reason to stop moping around about Liechtenstein, right? It's better that she's not here if you're so suspicious of it; she'll be safer wherever she is now."

"…" he mulled the thought over in his head, "I suppose you're right. But don't expect me to give up hope on seeing her again, we both know that us waking up like we have been isn't right."

"Fine, fine," Hungary smiled, "That's more than I was bargaining for, if I'm honest. Now get up and do _something_ for God's sakes! Would your sister be happy to know that you just sat around glaring at everyone while she was gone?"

Managing a wry smile, Switzerland lifted himself up from his chair, "What do you propose?" he asked.

"Well, I hear that America and England are going to be having a table tennis match…"

"That could only turn out horribly," Switzerland observed.

"So, does that mean you wanna watch?" she grinned.

"Definitely."

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"Wait wait wait, hold up a sec," Prussia said, sticking his head out into the hallway to look for nurses. When the coast was clear, he turned back to the blond in his awesome presence, fixing him with a bewildered look, "You're telling me that you're trying to hook your brother up with _England_!"

Canada pressed a finger firmly against his own lips, shushing the albino urgently. While they were in one of the smaller rooms down the hall, he didn't want anyone else overhearing them, "Yes, okay, you don't have to yell it, eh!"

"But really…your brother is hot for _England_?" Prussia quirked a brow, obviously thinking that Canada was somehow joking.

"That was my first reaction too, but it's true," Canada sighed, "He asked me to help him with it, but it's only been the last couple of weeks that they've even been socialising without trying to piss each other off."

"And whose fault it that?" Prussia asked rhetorically, "Granted, they're nowhere near as awesome as yours truly, so you can see how it could go south pretty quick."

"Sure, sure, whatever, eh," Canada groaned, slouching down into one of the recliners while Prussia swung his legs over the arm of another, "So will you help me out or not, Gil?"

"Maybe…what do I get in return?"

"I swear to hockey that as soon as we get out of here, may that be sooner than later, I will make you as many pancakes as you can eat," Canada rolled his eyes, raising his right hand in the three-fingered Scout salute.

"Fuck, when we get outta here?" Prussia whined, "So what you're saying is that not only do I have to make sure that Old Eyebrows trips and falls onto your brother's dick, but I've gotta orchestrate an awesome jailbreak too?"

"Do you even know what 'orchestrate' means?" Canada asked dubiously, smothering his laughter.

"Fuck off, Matt. Or course I know what it means; _how_ long have I known Austria? I'm pretty fucking sure that I know every word even remotely related to 'orchestra'," Prussia flipped him the bird.

"Whatever you say," Canada chuckled, "And you might wanna trash your stellar jailbreak idea too. It'll be hard to make your pancakes if we get killed trying to escape, won't it?"

"Bitch please, with me, there's no way we'll get caught! I'm fucking awesome!" Prussia exclaimed, pumping a fist into the air, "Besides, are you telling me that you _want_ to stay in this hospital until you actually go crazy?

"Come on Gilbert, it's not that bad in here…" Canada muttered, "And you're not the one who's been in here since June. Sure it's gotten a little weird lately, but…"

"But nothing!" Prussia threw back his head and laughed, "It's October, bro! You've gotta be sick of this place by now! I mean, we haven't even been allowed outside since I've been here. I'm dying!"

"Your basement skin couldn't handle it anyways," Canada grinned, yelping when Prussia punched his arm, "Ow! I was kidding, eh!"

"You're fucking lucky you're almost as awesome as me, or I'd have to kick your ass, kid."

"I'm not a kid," Canada pouted.

"You are compared to me. Anyway, about this whole America and England thing, what exactly am I supposed to do?" Prussia asked, a conspiratorial grin stretching across his face.

"Nothing outright, okay?" Canada stressed, "You talk to England, and just make a few passing mentions of Alfred, please? Only enough to get him thinking, and don't be…yourself," he frowned at the face that Prussia gave him, "Don't look at me like that, Prussia—"

"—Ouch, so I'm back to being 'Prussia' now?—"

"—Yes, now let me finish! You know you like the watch the shit hit the fan; just don't do it this time! I'm trying to be a good brother here!" Canada griped, hiding his face under the collar of his shirt.

"Chill out, Mattie," Prussia cackled, ruffling Canada's hair, "I'll be a good badass, so don't blow a gasket. Hey, where is your brother anyway? I'm surprised he hasn't busted into here yet."

"He's playing ping-pong with England," Canada muttered into his shirt, "They won't even notice we're missing."

"…Suggesting something, huh, Ca-na-da?" Prussia chucked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"You are such a horndog," Canada laughed, shoving his palm into Prussia's face, "Here I am, trying to have a serious conversation, and your mind is being…well, your mind. We've barely even hung out since you've been here, why would I want to have sex with you?"

"Uh, because I'm a fucking beast? Is this even a question?" Prussia asked as though it was the most absurd thing he had ever heard.

"Whatever you say, Gilbert," Canada sighed, standing up from his chair and stretching, "I'm heading back to watch the game. Do what you want, eh."

"Welp, there's really no point in wasting my awesomeness sitting alone, is there?" Prussia jumped out of his chair, passing Canada on the way out of the door and delivering a good, solid slap to the blonde's ass. Laughing his raspy laugh, he zoomed down the hall and into the Commons Room.

"H-hey! Prussia, you hoser!" Canada called after him, but of course, his quiet voice was too weak to be heard more than a few metres away.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

The silence in the Commons Room was deafening. Every Nation was now crowded around the ping-pong table, while the two at the centre of it all glared at each other.

"Third set; first to make it to fourteen points is the winner," Germany said, having been given the role of scorekeeper for the game. America and England were tied at one set apiece, and this would determine the winner.

"Ready to get your ass kicked, England?" America challenged, keeping true to his promise to hold off on the various nicknames for the other blond.

"Lay on, Macduff," England muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for America to hear, "And damn'd be him who first cries, 'Hold, enough!'…"

"Achtung!..." Germany announced, glancing between the two Nations and deeming them ready to begin, "Fertig!…" the two raised their paddles, America getting ready to serve the ball, "Los!"

No sooner had the serve been made, that the PA system beeped, making everyone's heads snap in the direction of the speaker. America's serve flew over England's head, pegging Sweden square in the glasses and knocking them off of his face.

"Hello?" Nurse Wilson said aloud from her spot halfway across the room. She, along with the other nurses, had gravitated toward the ping-pong table to watch the thus far intense competition.

"_Nurse Wilson, could you have Alfred Jones sent to the first-floor interview rooms?"_ a woman's voice, slightly muffled, came through the speaker. America rolled his eyes exasperatedly at the use of his name, but kept his mouth shut.

"Uhhh…sure I could do that," Nurse Wilson was noticeably confused by this request, "Is there something wrong, Nancy?"

"_Not as far as I know, miss. Dr. Eticott gave me the message, so I'm sure it must be important,"_ the lady replied.

"Alright, thank you, I'll have him down in a minute!" she said, blinking confusedly during the _beep_ that ended the connection.

"Do you have any idea what that was about?" Finland asked as he picked up Sweden's glasses, handing them back to the taller Nation.

"None at all…" Nurse Wilson frowned, "America, you can come with me, please. I'll take you down myself and we'll figure this out. I'm sure it's nothing bad."

America pouted, setting his paddle down on the table, "Damn, I can't even finish the game?"

"I think we'd better go now."

"Go on, America," England stepped forward and elbowed America lightly in the side, "Go get this over with so that I can finish beating you."

"In your dreams!" America stuck his tongue out as he walked to join Nurse Wilson as they walked out of the Commons Room.

As they left, the remaining Nations looked at each other, varied expressions playing on their faces. The nurses that had been left returned to their places around the perimeter of the room.

"Veee…what do you think they're doing?" Italy asked, looking toward the doorway.

"They've never called anyone down like this before?" Estonia asked, adjusting his glasses.

"No, never," England shook his head, "And I'm one of the first ones to get stuck here."

"Oh! What if they're gonna do some freaky experiments on him?" Korea asked excitedly. Italy and Latvia whimpered at the idea, "Y'know, like in those movies where they cut open the crazy people's brains and put stuff in, or switch the sides around, da ze!"

"Korea, don't be so morbid, aru," China scolded, whacking the younger Asian on the back of the head.

"For all we know, they are just beginning regular…therapy classes," Germany said the words with obvious distaste, "Although there are few of us here who require them," a pointed glance toward Prussia, "but, as we've already agreed, something here is wrong, and very different from what we remember. It is probably nothing to worry about."

"Like, you're not totes head-over-heels for the idea of the docs here going all, like, Mengele on us?" Poland turned his nose up at Germany, who flinched.

"Please, do not say such things…" he directed his gaze to the floor, "I thought we were past all of this."

"Poland, don't take anything out on Germany," Lithuania placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "This has nothing to do with him."

"Sì! I'm sure when America gets back, he'll be able to tell us all about it," Spain said cheerfully.

"Like we actually _want_ that oaf to open his mouth," Romano grumbled.

"Look, guys, can't we all just chill for a bit, until America gets back?" Canada asked, stepping into the middle of the group. A few of the Nations stepped back in shock, not noticing him until he was right in front of them.

"Agreed," Switzerland said firmly, "Everyone move it."

So everyone, as Switzerland so eloquently said, moved it. After all, not one wanted to be on his bad side, even without a gun.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

When America stepped out of the elevator that took them down to the first floor, he stuck close behind Nurse Wilson. She led him down hallways that all looked the same until they reached their apparent destination; a wide hallway with two doors on opposite sides.

The head psychiatrist that he remembered, with some amount of distaste, to be Dr. Eticott, was standing to the side of the hall, talking with another guy in a white coat and a couple of orderlies.

"Doctor," Nurse Wilson got his attention as they came to a stop, "I've brought him. What's going on, is there something wrong?"

"Of course not!" the aging doctor laughed, which America thought looked creepy, with his receding hair, frameless glasses and white doctor's coat, "Mr. Jones here has a visitor today."

"A visitor?" Nurse Wilson looked shocked. America felt instantly wary; who the heck would come to visit him in a mental hospital? He wasn't afraid, of course; he was too heroic for cowardice.

"…Who is it?" America asked, adjusting Texas so that it sat further up his nose, "I told you when you first brought me in here, I don't know any of those humans who took me in."

"The visitor is your mother, Alfred. She is very worried about you," the doctor wore a look of utmost sympathy.

"Don't," America stressed, "Call me Alfred. I am not Alfred to you, I'm America. And there's no way in hell I'm going into that room and talking to some lady I don't know!" he gestured to the door that Dr. Eticott was standing nearby.

"Young man, you are Alfred," Dr. Eticott's soothing, understanding voice was really starting to grate on America's nerves, "You are Alfred to everyone, and your mother made the trip out here to see you; the least you could do is talk to her."

"But I don't know her!" America protested, taking a step backward. He glowered at one of the orderlies when they stepped forward, "Fuck off, man, I ain't gonna run. I just don't see why I have to go in there."

"You will go in there," the doctor said, "Because if you don't, we will have to force you. It's your choice, though."

"…Fuck you guys," America hissed, looking at Nurse Wilson, but the look on her face clearly showed that she was powerless in this situation. Groaning, he grabbed the door handle and wrenched it open, closing it behind him with a powerful swing.

The room was small, square, and smelled too much like disinfectant. There were four chairs situated around a table, one of which housed a woman. Her blonde hair was lying in soft waves over her shoulders, and her makeup was smeared slightly as if she had been rubbing at her eyes.

She looked up when he slammed the door, and the hope in her eyes made America feel absolutely sick to his stomach. Why the fuck were they making him do this?

"Alfred?" she asked.

America winced. She was one of his people, but the insult of being addressed so informally, even by this distraught lady, tugged at his mind.

"Not anymore," America offered in return, "Look…I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm even in here."

"P-please don't say that," the woman choked a little on her words, "I know you; you're my Alfred. You were just a little sick, that's why Jamie said he had to bring you here."

"Jamie?" America asked, "Is that the human who brought me here in the first place? He thought I was a total nutjob!"

"He was your best friend, Alfred,"

"Please stop, don't call me that," he scratched at his hair, sitting down in a chair opposite the woman, "I really don't know you. Can't we just start from the beginning? Like, with your name or something, 'cause if you can't tell, I'm freaking out about this myself."

"You really…" she started to talk, but swallowed the lump in her throat, "You don't remember anything? You're not my Alfred?"

"Sorry. I don't really know what's going on, but no, I'm not your Alfred. You can call me America; that's who I am." He couldn't bring himself to meet the woman's eyes. He swore he was never doing anything those doctors wanted him to ever again.

"My name is Amanda Jones," she wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her coat, "I'm your…well, Alfred's mother," the look on her face was pained, "Why are you here if you don't know me?"

"Because the guys in white coats out in the hall were going to stick a needle in me if I didn't," America replied, "Probably because they're hoping that whatever's fucked up here will go away if I talk to one of the people I apparently knew."

"And _what_ are you?" the way she said it was so sudden and accusing that America was caught momentarily off-guard.

"I am a lot of things," America retorted, feeling anger bubble into his chest, "I am America, I am American. I've been a ward, a cowboy, a soldier, a politician, a superpower, a killer…I could go on. Trust me, all of us could. I've also been here for hundreds of years, and I remember them all. I am Alfred F. Jones, but I'm not _your_ Alfred F. Jones, alright? I'm not your kid; I'm not anyone's kid."

The blonde woman opposite him gave a muffled sob, turning her head downward into the palms of her hands, and America turned his eyes to the ceiling, frustrated with everything.

"I…I j-just don't u-u-understand why this had to h-happen…" she cried, and America knew she was mourning the loss of her son, which he had nothing to do with.

Pursing his lips, he kept his head directed away from her. He knew that they would most likely spent the rest of the time, however long that would be, in bitter silence.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"Did his mother really come all the way here?" Nurse Wilson asked Dr. Eticott after America entered the room, wondering when this had been arranged.

"Yes. She was quite distraught, as you could imagine," he replied, "I figured that one meeting could be beneficial. It might even trigger something in Alfred's memories."

Nurse Wilson chewed on her lips. She didn't want to say how bad of an idea she thought his was directly to the doctor; it wasn't her place to question his judgement, since he was the head of the hospital. America had not been happy about this, and he was one of the patients that were very seldom in a bad mood.

"And what if nothing happens, doctor?' she asked, "Then the mother will only be worse off."

"There are more possibilities."

Sighing, Nurse Wilson massaged her temples, trying to calm her thoughts. Why on earth was she so affected by this? She knew that the doctor did have a bit of a point: the woman was Alfred F. Jones' biological mother, and she had the right to see her child, and it could shed a little light on the Nation Phenomenon. But she also knew that her patient, America, was not the same Alfred. This whole thing could end up blowing up in their faces.

Dr. Eticott's pager beeped, and he picked up his phone, "Oh shoot. I'm late for a meeting. I hope you won't mind waiting out here until they're done, will you? It's only a fifteen minute visitation, and the orderlies will escort Mrs. Jones out of the hospital."

Nurse Wilson shook her head, for the first time getting frustrated with her boss, "Not a problem sir."

"Thank you," he took off down the hall, turning to the left and out of sight. Once again sighing, Nurse Wilson looked at the door that America had slammed on his way into the room. With the loud bang it had made, she was surprised that the door was still intact.

"What the…" she whispered as she caught sight of the door handle; the solid brass door handle, which now bore the faint imprint of four fingers in the metal, from where America had grabbed it.

There was no way that that should have been possible.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Twenty minutes later, America re-entered the Commons Room, still frustrated and weirded-out with the forced meeting of his supposed mother. Then again, he supposed that if it was true, and they had all been human before they suddenly 'woke up', then there could be dozens of people like that woman out in the world.

Nurse Wilson apologised to him, saying that she had no clue that that was going to happen, and looking at him a bit strangely, before going over to her usual spot near the door to the nurse's office.

"America," England waved him over, "What the bloody hell happened? You look like hell ran you over."

"Fucking doctors, that's what happened," America groaned, shaking his head when England held out his ping-pong paddle, "Naw, I don't much feel like playing anymore, you can win. Anyway, they made me talk to this woman who was supposed to be my mother."

"What?" England's eyes widened. His exclamation drew the attention of most of the other Nations in the room, who stepped a little bit closer to overhear, "Like, with this whole 'being human' ordeal?"

"Yeah," America scratched at his hair, which he seemed to do more and more when he was nervous or frustrated, "Fucking ruined my whole day."

"What happened?" Hungary asked, drawing up to the other two.

"They had the woman who was my…er…mother, I guess. Before I woke up." America repeated, for the others who were just not joining the conversation.

"An' they made ya speak ta 'er?" Turkey asked, looking confused, "Why in the Hell'd ya hafta do that? They ought ta know tha' we ain't theirs no more."

"The hospital…seems to be becoming strange," Greece contributed, standing as far away from Turkey as he could manage, "Maybe the doctors will be trying to find out why we suddenly all disappeared, and then woke up with no memory of it."

"Hey, maybe it was just a one-time deal," America grinned, working off his tense edge, "Like, the lady showed up, and they had to make me see her, 'cause she was already here, or something."

"That better be all it was!" Prussia barked, "If the damn shrinks want to try and pull any of that shit with me, they'll be getting their asses kicked!"

"I'm sure they're shaking in their boots," Hungary said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, well, you can come over here and lap up on my pristine white dick!" Prussia spat back, giving Hungary the middle finger with both hands.

"That was the most horrifying, yet artful description I have ever heard," France chuckled darkly.

"Prussia's dick aside, are we all good here?" Canada asked, looking specifically at his brother, who gave a small grin.

"Yeah, we're all good."

"This hospital is making us all fucking insane," Romano stated, "I feel bad for the poor sunovabitch who shows up next; they're fucking screwed."

They all managed to share a laugh at that thought, glad that the topic could be lightened up with a little bit of crude humour and expletives.

**-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-**

"**Achtung, Fertig, Los!' = "Ready, Set, Go!" (German)**

**It was a reviewer (you know who you are) who suggested having someone visit America. They actually suggested his girlfriend visiting, but with something like this, they would never allow anyone but family, so I went for the mother.**

**Also, and this is IMPORTANT: There are only six characters left to show up. Yes, SIX, you can figure them out if you want; they're the only ones left with official human names. But there will be an OMAKE chapter that will be written, featuring the Nations like Denmark, Cuba, Australia, Liechtenstein, and whoever that don't actually have a place in the main storyline. I still haven't decided if it will be a chapter in this, or posted separately, but either way don't expect it anytime soon, since I want to get this story finished first.**

**Thank each and every one of you for the Reviews, Favourites, and Alerts!**


	20. DixNeuf: Désespoir

**I know, it's been a year since the last chapter. I won't go into details, but I have had an awful year between school, internet, health, and mental illness problems. Let it suffice to say that for a while, I was as risk of seeing JUST how inaccurate my portrayal of an asylum is, firsthand.**

**I really love this story though. I am not ready to give up on it, although I can't tell you for certain when I can find time to write. It might be somewhat like a hiatus, but I will update whenever I can, I promise.**

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

_**Folie à Plusiers**_

Dix-Neuf: Désespoir

_Nineteen: Despair_

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

The day after America's 'visit' found the Nations in sombre spirits; America himself couldn't keep up a smile for long. Seeming to understand the mood, the sky was accordingly overcast, threatening rain and cold weather approaching as October made its way into its second week.

Greece himself didn't feel much different than he did normally; tired, and just the slightest bit frustrated with everyone around him. Thankfully, Turkey was leaving him alone for the time being; the masked freak had decided to play a game of poker with a few of the others.

Yawning, he stretched himself out along the couch, staring out the window at the grey sky. Corporal Cat jumped up on top of him, purring and curling up into a ball on his stomach.

"Comfortable?" he whispered, scratching the brown and white cat behind its ears, smiling as the purrs deepened in reply.

Over the back of the couch, Greece heard someone, probably Romano, let loose a loud string of expletives. He almost wished that he had the willpower to look over the back of the couch to see what had happened. Instead he sighed, leaning his head back along the armrest.

Romano hadn't spoken to him much ever since his major incident the night Germany had arrived. Not that that was saying much; for the few weeks that followed, Romano didn't speak much to _anyone_, let alone Greece, but he was still disappointed that he had been forgotten. He had grown to like plotting against Turkey with the vile-tempered Italian.

And since Romano had forgotten all about Greece once Spain had come back, Greece really had no one to talk to at all. He wasn't anti-social amongst the others, he was just more reserved that most of them, which meant that he was often dismissed when it came to games or conversations. A pity; he really would like someone to talk philosophy with.

If he were perfectly honest, there was only one Nation that he actually sought out for company; Japan.

Japan was the only person who would actually sit down and enjoy a slow, insightful conversation with him. The only downside to the quiet Asian Nation was his unfortunate friendship with Turkey, but Greece knew that really, he was Japan's favourite (he affirmed this thought with a small frown and a nod).

"This is… kind of depressing," Greece sighed, letting his head fall to the side so that he could look out the window again. The wind had picked up, blowing leaves and twigs against the windowpane.

He chuckled dryly at his earlier statement; after all, what was really depressing was that a good portion of the world was currently in a mental asylum. Depressing was the fact that something had happened that none of them could remember, and that they all seemed to be human for a time. Depressing was the fact that, despite everything, Greece was having trouble finding a flaw in what had happened.

But that was just his own opinion, and he knew, at least for now, that no one would bother asking him for it.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"I-I win again…" Latvia stuttered as he set his cards on the table, causing the other Nations around him to curse.

"Fuck, kid!" Prussia hissed, throwing his cards and standing up. Latvia flinched, thinking that the bigger Nation was going to hit him, "I can't believe we keep losing! You've gotta be cheating!"

Latvia wisely kept his mouth shut, not wanting to correct Prussia by telling him that no, he had not cheated. Even if he was, they had no real money to bet, so they weren't losing anything to him. Poker had always been a hidden talent of his; if he played well enough, and amused Russia, sometimes he was even able to get free alcohol out of it.

"Whatever, I'm done anyways," Turkey grumbled, standing as well, "Don' fancy gettin' beaten by this li'l brat again."

The other Nations; England and Romano, nodded and stood as well. As the four left, Latvia gathered up the cards with trembling hands, putting them back into the box with no small amount of effort.

He was a little disappointed that the game was over so quickly; it had been a great distraction from where he was. Just the idea of being stuck in this hospital made his trembling worsen; he almost wanted to cry.

He didn't feel safe here. To be perfectly honest, safe was the _last_ thing he was feeling; constantly surrounded by bigger, stronger countries. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that they probably wouldn't hurt him, but after spending so many centuries being tossed back between world powers, he still couldn't shake his feeling of vulnerability.

The nurses and doctors scared him, too. When he, Estonia and Lithuania were first given over to doctors, back in his home, they weren't exactly accommodating. All five days that they had spent at the hospital in Riga were spent getting poked, prodded, x-rayed, blood-tested, and all matter of procedures.

Wincing at the thought, Latvia tenderly covered the flesh on the crook of his elbow, massaging the faded yellow bruise there from where the doctors had held him down and drawn vials of blood until he felt faint. They told him that the bruise was because he was so tense when the needle went in, but Latvia still wasn't sure why the bruise was there in the first place. Mundane things like that shouldn't have left marks on a Nation, no matter how small.

He felt a hand press down on his shoulder and jumped, almost falling out of his chair. The hand withdrew immediately, and Estonia peered down at his apologetically.

"Sorry…" the bespectacled blonde said, pulling out the chair next to Latvia and taking a seat, "I should have announced myself."

"N-no, it's a-alright," Latvia stammered, trying to calm his fluttering heart. He had thought for certain that it would have been another doctor coming to do more tests on him.

"Is everything okay, Latvia?" Estonia asked, narrowing his eyes in concern, "You seem jumpy. And I mean more so than usual; you're even worse than when we first got here."

"I've just had m-more time alone to think," Latvia said the first thing on his mind, "I'm w-wondering when the doctors are gonna experiment on us."

"Latvia!" Estonia shook his head, "Don't you ever think before you speak? They could hear you!" typical Estonia, telling him to shut his mouth in case anyone got angry.

"W-well, why aren't you more afraid?" Latvia asked, crossing his arms in front of himself on the table, "Or weren't you there when we were having all those tests done?"

Estonia sighed, leaning in to speak quieter, "Of course I was there, and I know that they didn't do anything too horrible. A lot of that was completely basic, especially since the humans think that we're insane."

"Maybe we are," Latvia pouted, looking away from Estonia, annoyed that older Nation was acting so nonchalant.

"Hey," Estonia's eyes narrowed behind his glasses, "Now you're just being ridiculous. If I were you, I'd be more worried about what's going on with us than what the doctors are doing. You can't honestly tell me that you don't feel it."

"Feel w-what?" Latvia returned to looking at the other blonde, his trembles diminishing as he became more focused.

"The hole right here," Estonia touched his sternum, "Where our people should be. I can't feel them at all; it's like I'm disconnected from them."

Latvia looked down at his chest. He knew what Estonia was talking about, after all, he'd been trying to ignore the feeling of loneliness and discomfort for the past few weeks. When a Nation couldn't feel their people, it was like they were walking around with a piece of them missing. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

"Yeah…I know," he replied.

"I went and spoke to Finland about it earlier," Estonia said, "He said that when he first 'woke up', or whatever happened, that he felt the same way. He had no connection to his people or his economy, but after time the feeling just faded away."

"They came b-back to him?"

Estonia nodded, "But that still doesn't mean that it still isn't wrong," he chuckled humourlessly, "Or you know, any more wrong than this whole situation is."

Latvia nodded his head silently, agreeing wholeheartedly with Estonia's statement. He hoped to hell that whatever happened to Finland would happen to him too; he just wanted that feeling of incompleteness gone.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

Spain draped himself over the back of the couch that Romano was sitting on, watching as the Italian hastily flipped through the few channels that the television actually received. The Italian was nearly breaking the buttons with the amount of force he used; he was probably still upset over Latvia trumping him at poker.

"Fuck, this place is absolute shit!" Romano seethed, throwing the remote aside and leaning back into the couch, "There is nothing, I repeat, _not a fucking thing_ to do!"

"That's not too bad," Spain shrugged, placing a hand on Romano's head, "It's nice to just relax, isn't it?"

"Che, maybe for a lazy ass like you," Romano rolled his eyes, "But I'm fucking bored."

Spain chuckled in amusement and jumped over the back of the couch, taking the spot beside Romano, "Aww, at least you won't have to be bored for long," he poked at the cast on Romano's foot.

The reason that he and Romano had gone to a separate room in the first place was because, after two months, it was finally time for the cast on Romano's foot to come off. Spain wasn't allowed to accompany Romano to the medical wing, but there was no way that he could leave his little Lovino all by his lonesome until then. Besides, he was still trying to figure out how Romano had broken his foot in the first place; try as he might, Romano had been unrelenting.

Romano closed his eyes and took a deep breath before sighing, "The damn cast should've come off weeks ago; Nations like us don't take as long to heal as humans."

Spain frowned, "That's right," he murmured vaguely.

"What?"

"We heal faster than humans," Spain reiterated, holding his hand up in front of Romano's face, "But look, I nicked my hand on a piece of paper this morning, and it still hasn't healed."

Taking his hand back, Spain stared at the cut between his thumb and forefinger. He didn't understand why it was still there, although he hadn't given it much thought until Romano spoke about his foot. He felt fine; nothing like that weird sensation he'd had when he first arrived—or, well, 'woke up'—at the hospital.

"Probably because you haven't been yourself for long," Romano said, tapping his feet on the floor impatiently, "All of us were weak like humans then."

Spain mulled the thought over, somewhat understanding it. It was probably why Romano's foot hadn't healed within a week too. Letting an easy smile stretch his mouth, he pulled Romano close to him, "Aw, Lovi, you're so smart!"

"L-let go of me, stupid bastard!" Romano's face flushed bright red as he tried to push the Spaniard away.

"Why?" Spain asked as though it was the most absurd thing he had ever heard, "I love you so much Lovi; I don't want to let you go!"

Like magic, Romano's hands stopped pushing Spain away and moved to cover the embarrassed Italian's face, "…bastard."

"But, Lovi…" Spain trailed off, pretty sure that his next question was going to ruin the moment, "…why won't you tell me how you hurt your foot?"

He felt Romano tense in his arms and braced himself for an angry outburst. Surprisingly, none came.

Romano sighed and looked up at Spain, "I told you, it was nothing. You don't need to know."

"But I want to know," Spain pouted, "I've been asking for weeks, Lovi, but you just get mad or change the subject. It's better now though, so why won't you tell me?"

"Just drop it, will you?" Romano shouted, trying to push away from Spain harder this time. Spain frowned and tightened his grip around Romano's waist.

"Ssshh, Lovi. The nurses will hear you," he warned, his face only a foot away from Romano's. In the back of his mind, he expected to be headbutted, but he didn't back off, "I'm not going to let you go until you tell me."

Romano struggled, and Spain found himself actually having a hard time keeping the smaller Nation subdued, "What the hell, Spain, just let me go!"

"Please, Lovi?" Spain pleaded, his green eyes boring into Romano's, "I really worry about you, querido."

"Well then don—" Romano's voice broke at Spain's heartbreaking expression and sighed harshly, "Fine, dammit."

Spain pulled Romano closer, and the Italian rested his head against his chest. Romano's face was flushed red, and the tiny tremors in his shoulders told Spain that he was either suppressing rage, or trying not to cry.

"It was hard for me, you know…" Romano's voice was barely a whisper, "I missed you so fucking much; none of those other bastards cared. I felt a little better knowing that Feliciano couldn't have his stupid bastard either…I can't believe I was happy that he was suffering as much as I was. I-I'm such a pathetic _fuck!_"

Spain opened his mouth to say something; to deny Romano's accusation, but before he could form any words, Romano tugged on his shirt, silencing him.

"Don't say it. Let me finish," he warned, never once looking at Spain, "When_ Germany_ showed up, Feliciano was so happy; everything was alright for him. But where did that leave me? I…I don't even know what I was thinking. They were _touching _and _laughing_ and _smiling…_I just saw red and I ran. I felt worthless and alone; like the scum of the earth on everyone's shoe. I kicked some stuff. Hard. It's all just a blur to me now, but that's how it happened."

"What—" Antonio tried to speak.

"—And you know what the real kicker was?" Romano cut him off, "After it was done, Feliciano tried so hard to get me to tell him what was wrong. I was selfish and jealous, yet all he wanted to do was make it all better…"

"Oh, Lovi…" Antonio sighed, leaning down to Romano and kissing him lightly on the cheek, "All of that's over now, I promise you. I know how hard it is for you to believe this, but everyone was worried for you. I know they were. And I swear, as long as I'm here, that will _never_ happen again. You're the light of my life, Lovino."

Romano inhaled deeply, failing at keeping his tears at bay. He would never figure out how Spain always knew exactly what he needed to hear. Somehow, that sunny bastard could always make him forget how pathetic he felt.

"Antonio…" in a sudden fit of relief and impulse, Romano surged forward, throwing his arms around Spain's shoulders and kissing him full on the mouth. In the back of his mind, panic flared, telling him that Spain wouldn't like it, since he didn't usually instigate things like this, but he promptly told that little voice to shut up.

Spain's eyes widened in shock as Romano kissed him, but quickly slid shut as he allowed himself to enjoy the moment. Since he had awoken in MacFarlane's, this was the first real kiss he and Romano had had. It was all the more surprising that Romano was the one to start it. It felt amazing.

"Romano, are you ready to head to the—oh," Nurse Wilson jolted to a stop just inside the door, frozen to the spot. Romano practically flung himself off of Spain, backing up to the opposite end of the couch and wiping his mouth with an embarrassed glare. Spain laughed, turning around to look at Nurse Wilson, apparently not at all disturbed by that fact that she had seen them.

"Hola," Spain waved merrily.

"U-uhhm…" Nurse Wilson was at a loss for words. She had known that Romano and Spain were close; after all, who _wouldn't_ have figured that out after the fiasco with Romano—but she didn't think that they were _that_ close.

"Stop staring at me like that, dammit!" Romano sputtered, his voice coming out like a squeak. His face burned even hotter at this, "C-chigi!"

Nurse Wilson blinked and turned her head, not having noticed that she was staring at Romano at all, "I'm so sorry. Are…are you ready to come with me down to the medical wing now?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Ready. Whatever, why the hell wouldn't I be ready?" Romano jumped to his feet in a huff, pointedly ignoring Spain as he brushed past Nurse Wilson and out into the hallway, "You coming or not?"

She rolled her eyes as the façade that Romano put up. He was the same as ever. She bid a quick farewell to Spain, who smiled brilliantly at her and waved her off, "Bye Lovi!" he called loudly, as the Italian had already left in his haste.

Spain laughed as Nurse Wilson hurried out of the room to catch up with Romano. Lovi was just so adorable when he was flustered!

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

"Romano, please, slow down!" Nurse Wilson called, heels clacking noisily as she tried to keep up with the Italian that was storming down the hall.

"I just want this damn cast off," Romano didn't even look back, "The sooner the better."

Nurse Wilson sighed, rolling her eyes. She knew that Romano wasn't walking so fast because he was in a hurry to get the cast off of his foot, he was _avoiding _her because she had seen him being intimate with Spain. She couldn't blame him; after spending so much time around him, it was obvious that he didn't like anyone seeing him with his guard down, he was too afraid of being hurt.

Coming to the turn in the hall that they were to take, Nurse Wilson wasn't the least bit surprised when Romano walked right past it, not knowing where he was going. She stopped by the turn and placed a hand on her hip.

"Romano, you're going the wrong way."

With a handful of half-muttered curses, Romano spun around, eyes glued to the floor and face an embarrassed red, "I fucking knew that," he whispered, half to himself and half out of childish spite.

"Sure," Nurse Wilson returned, placing a hand on his elbow once he returned to her side, just to make sure he wouldn't speed away again. He winced when she touched him, and she saw it, "You're okay, you know. What's the matter?"

"Fuck…" Romano hissed under his breath, "Don't give me that, you saw."

"You and Spain?" she hazarded, not at all surprised that this was the cause.

He turned his head away, "Yeah."

"I don't care," she sighed, moving her hand from his elbow to his shoulder, a gesture that was a little bit awkward because Romano was fairly taller than her, "What are you so worried about?"

"I hate it when people see shit like that. Makes my skin crawl for whatever reason," Romano scuffed his shoes as they walked, "Just…I don't know. I'm not ashamed; countries don't really have gender-orientation issues, but I'd rather keep it discreet."

"So it's not that I saw you, it's just that you were seen in general."

"Yeah, something like that," Romano finally turned his head to look at her, "I just like my damn privacy, unlike _some_ Nations. Like my stupid little brother…if I _ever _see him and that Kraut again…"

"Kraut..?" Nurse Wilson drew a blank for a second before comprehension dawned, "Italy and Germany are..?"

"Unfortunately since the Great War," Romano nodded, "Some Nations don't believe it simply because they think my brother is too 'innocent', but those are the ones who haven't lived with him. We have thin walls."

"U-uhmm…" Nurse Wilson blushed. That was certainly more than she needed to know; she was all too happy to assume that Italy was overly affectionate towards Germany because it was his nature, but…well, now she wasn't going to be able to get Romano's words out of her head whenever she saw them.

Shaking her head, she pressed the down arrow on the elevator pad on the wall.

The rest of the trip was spent in awkward silence.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

England peered around yet another corner, frowning deeply when he saw nothing but an orderly keeping his post. The blonde sighed, leaning against the wall as he swept his messy hair out of his eyes; he'd need to speak to one of the nurses about getting it cut soon. He was in no great hurry to look like France again.

A sound like bells tinkered through the air as one of his faerie friends flew down the hall, looping to a stop just above his head.

"Have you or your friends found him yet, Mab?" he asked, holding out a hand for the creature to rest on.

"Indeed we have," Mab's voice was like glass; high and inhuman, "Follow me."

She took off down the hall, becoming nothing more than a ball of ethereal light when her wings began to flap. England jogged to keep up, his shoes echoing dully down the empty hall.

Mab flitted around a corner that England hadn't thought to check; the lights were off, so he hadn't assumed that anyone would be down there. However, he was clearly mistaken as the faerie led him to a doorway, as dark as the rest of the hall.

"He is within," she told him as she hovered, her light bouncing off the walls like an aurora, "My ladies have left him. Although he cannot see us as you do, it would be most rude of us to intrude."

"Thank you, my lady," England offered the faerie a sweeping bow, which she seemed delighted to receive, "Will you be taking your leave as well?"

All he got as an answer was her chiming laughter as she disappeared down the hall.

The door to the room was closed, but not locked, and the handle turned without a sound. England stepped into the room cautiously. It was dark, with only the barest outlines of the furniture registering to his eyes. He wanted to turn the lights on, but curbed the urge. If the lights weren't already on, then it was not his place to touch them.

"America?" England called, his voice just above a whisper, "America, I know you're in here. Do me a favour and answer me, won't you?"

There was a shuffling of material, and England could make out the faint silhouette of a figure crouched in the corner of the room. Unfortunately, America made no more to answer him. Sighing, England stepped fully into the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Walking towards America, he stopped a few feet in front of him, "Alfred."

America's face turned up towards him. His eyes looked red, even in the dim light, "What do you want, England?" his voice was weak.

"Don't give me that," England retorted with an astounding lack of bite in his voice, "You just up and disappeared. You've been so quiet all day that I don't think anyone else even noticed you were gone."

"Well good."

England frowned, crouching down in front of the younger Nation, "Alfred, what's all this about? You're not still on about that woman from yesterday, are you?"

"I can't get it out of my head, man," America whispered, tugging at his hair with one hand, "I was so angry but now… now I just don't fucking get it. She knew me. She looked just like me, Arthur, and not even in the normal Nation-to-citizen way. And we all _know_ that we weren't ourselves before we woke up, especially after Spain…"

"…Where are you going with this?" England asked warily. It wasn't like America to be so resigned. It was an awful sight to behold.

"What if we're really just crazy?" the tone of America's voice just about broke England's heart.

"Alfred F. Jones!" England barked, placing a hand on America's shoulder, "Am I really hearing this from _you,_ of all Nations? Wasn't it _you_ who got on Canada's case about thinking the same thing?"

"And what if Mattie was right?" America demanded, shoving England's hand away, "What if this is all wrong, and I'm just Alfred Jones and he's just Matthew Williams and _you're_ just Arthur Kirkland?"

"Bollocks! I can't believe this is coming out of your mouth!" England moved closer, staring straight into America's eyes. Even in the dark, they were the bluest he's ever seen, "You. Are. America. Think about everyone else; how is this just in all of our heads? How can you be the hero if you can't even be sure in your convictions?"

Those words seemed to strike America hard. The younger blonde winced, burying his head in his hands. England fell silent, watching the young Nation that he had known for so long struggle to keep himself together.

"A-Arthur..?" America choked, the hitch in his voice the only sign that he had started to cry, "I'm so fucking confused right now."

"I know. We all are. If we are patient, I'm positive that everything will sort itself out."

"I don't want to be _patient!_" America groaned, kicking out with one of his legs and striking the back of a couch that was leant up against the wall. The offending piece of furniture flew violently from its perch, flipping midair before crashing against the opposite wall.

"Alfred, stop that," England whispered, leaning forward to press his hands into America's shoulders, keeping him pinned to the wall. He knew that if America really wanted to, he could throw England across the room without breaking a sweat, but England held to the belief that it wouldn't come to that.

"How can you doubt yourself?" England asked once America's breathing had slowed, "Could a human have done that? Bloody hell, Alfred, could _you _even have done that when you first got here? Even if you were human—if we _all_ used to be human—we sure as hell aren't any longer."

America took a shuddering breath, "…Okay. Fuck, I'm sorry, I was being stupid."

"No, you were just thinking too much," England chuckled, "I keep telling you that your brain can't handle intelligence, you great oaf."

"Haha…thanks, man," America grinned. The next thing England knew, large arms were wrapping around his petite frame, pulling him in close while America hugged him, "Who'd have thought that you could talk some sense into me?"

"Y-yes, quite," England stumbled over his words, whether from shock or the force of America's grip, he wasn't sure, "It _is _astounding that any sense could get in there at all."

America pulled back slightly, staring England in the eyes, "I owe you one, Arthur," he whispered before he stood up, cracking his back and offering a hand to help England to his feet as well, "We should probably get back before they send the orderlies out after us."

"Right," England nodded, taking the offered hand.

He didn't understand why his face felt so hot.

~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~

France was tossing cards back and forth between himself and Prussia, doing his best to hit the albino with every one he flicked that way. They had decided, after much quarrelling, to play a simple game of war.

"Hey, fuck off with that," Prussia scowled, slapping the next card out of midair before it could make contact with his forehead.

"Such violence," France teased, but relented to passing the cards over normally.

"Whatever man."

"Ay, amigos, this war is but a card game," Spain smiled, lifting his head (he had been sleeping on the table) and holding up his hands in a show of non-violence.

"Oh, go play with your spicy Italian, why don't you?" Prussia sighed, shuffling his half of the deck.

"Gilbert, you know Lovi went to get his cast off!" Antonio rested his head back on the table. France made sure that the next card he threw hit the Spaniard square in the ear.

"Phyeah, you're talking like I'm not the all-knowing King of Awesome," Prussia scoffed.

"Zat would be exactly right," France interjected without missing a beat.

"Shove it, Francis," Prussia flipped France the bird, "Anyway, I can hear Romano's prissy-ass stomping from a mile away. He should be here riiiiiight aboooouuutt—"

Romano stomped his way through the threshold.

"—Now."

"Lovi!" Antonio cheered, jumping up and bounding over to the Italian in a flurry of smiled and laughter, "I've missed you so much!"

"Bastard, I was only gone for twenty minutes," Romano snorted, crossing his arms.

"How is your foot, querido?" Antonio asked, "It must feel much better mow that the cast is gone."

"Great, look," Romano turned with a wicked smirk and used his previously bound foot to kick Spain hard in the shin. Spain hissed out a few curses as he jumped on his uninjured leg, "See? I told you it's been fine for a while."

"Lovi, what was that for?" Spain pouted, baring his green eyes at the shorter man. Romano flushed red, averting his gaze.

"I-idiot! Why do you even have to ask?" He barked, grabbing Spain by the wrist and dragging him over to the empty couch. Romano's voice lowered, "Sorry, I guess."

"Aww, Loviiii!" Spain squealed, hugging his lover to his chest, "You're so adorable, mi amor!"

Romano cut his retort short when he saw Nurse Wilson enter the room. She had gone a separate way from him after leaving the sick wing, having been paged by her boss.

Nurse Wilson stepped into the middle of the Commons Room, clapping her hands loudly to get the attention of all the Nations in the room, including America and England, who were just passing by the door.

"I'll bet by now that you know what I have to say?" she asked the Nations, a small smile on her face.

"Like, totally!" Poland flipped his hair.

"Ooohh, this is what they do when someone else turns up, isn't it?" Hungary asked loudly, clapping her hands together.

"It sure is," Nurse Wilson nodded, "I want to see if you can give me this next patient's name, because sadly I'm not sure how well I can even pronounce it…" she smiled sheepishly after glancing down at the sheet she held in her hand.

"Go for it, da ze!" Korea cried, bouncing on his toes.

"Alright then," Nurse Wilson looked back to the paper, "He's coming to us from Cairo."

"Gupta Muhammad Hassan," Turkey and Greece said in unison, throwing dirty scowls at each other once they realised that they were the only ones who had spoken.

The rest of the Nations looked at each other in confusion.

"…Ve…I didn't even know that Egypt had a name," Italy mused in wonder.

**-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-**

**I don't deserve anything after making you all wait like this. I'm so sorry.**

**If anyone is interested, you can find me on Tumblr under the name dethronedHierophant**

**And on AO3 under the same name (my AO3 account won't be of much interest unless you like Homestuck). You can get on my ass on Tumblr about updates and the like, but I'm not even on the internet much these days.**


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